Trespass
by Katt9966
Summary: Contains violence and non-con. A response to Peja's "home invasion" challenge. Slash.
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: - I don't own any of the characters of The Shield, they all belong to Shawn Ryan and FX.

Trespass – Chapter 1.

Dutch and Claudette sat on opposite sides of the table in the breakroom, each intent on the pages of Claudette's dissected newspaper that they were reading. Claudette slowly eating a salad while Dutch unenthusiastically munched his way through a slightly stale chicken salad sandwich, while wishing he'd got a plain salad too. Dutch frowned slightly when Vic and Shane came in talking loudly shattering their peace,

"So they give us all like 2 hours notice that we have to leave for three days while they fumigate the place. So I've got all my shit stuffed into the trunk of my car and I have to find time to trawl around the city trying to find somewhere half way decent to stay." Vic stated with a sigh as he reached into the fridge for a bottle of water.

"Yeah, well like I said you know I'm a bit short of space right now, but you're welcome to camp out on the couch at my place." Shane offered.

Without thinking Dutch absently said,

"I've got a spare room you can use for a few days."

As he bit into his sandwich he suddenly realised what he'd said, shit he wondered where had that come from? The words seemed to have sprung out of the ether and shot straight out of his mouth totally bypassing his brain. What could he do, he couldn't take it back now that he'd offered. Hopefully no one had been listening to him and if he kept his head down and just carried on as if he'd not spoken he'd get away with it. He began to chew the piece of sandwich in his mouth and tried to look innocuous focusing on the sports section of Claudette's paper. Of course he had no such luck, after a surprised pause Vic said,

"Hey, thanks Dutchboy that's great. I've got my stuff in my car, you finish at eleven right?"

Dutch looked up at him and nodded, still chewing and trying to look enthusiastic.

"Great I'll follow you to your place in my car OK? See you at eleven." Vic said walking out with a grinning Shane before Dutch had a chance to respond.

Finally swallowing the now very unappetizing mouthful of sandwich Dutch looked up at an incredulous looking Claudette,

"Just don't say a word, it was a moment of madness." He told her.

"My lips are sealed son." Claudette smirked, looking down at her paper again.

Several hours later after a slow and boring shift Dutch and Claudette sat at their desks sorting through some overdue paperwork. Dutch had just opened up the last file he had to go through when Vic came by slapping him on the shoulder,

"Well Dutchboy it's eleven time to go, I'll see you out in the car park."

Dutch glanced down at the open file on his desk,

"Actually I just wanted to finish…" Dutch's voice petered out as he realised that Vic hadn't even slowed down, let alone listened to what he said, and had already gone, passing out of the doors on his way to the car park.

Dutch blew his cheeks out in frustration, then sighed in resignation as he closed the file and put it away in a draw of his desk, he could always do it tomorrow morning he thought. He opened another drawer and removed his gun and car keys, as he stood he could hear Claudette trying to stifle her laughter at the desk next to his. As he passed by her he paused and leant down towards her, in a quiet voice he said,

"The next time I play the Good Samaritan, shoot me."

As he walked out he had to smile slightly as he heard Claudette's laughter following him.

When he reached the car park Dutch found Vic was already in his car waiting, Vic waved and shouted,

"I'll follow you."

Dutch smiled and waved back as he got into his car and pulled away from The Barn. On the way home Dutch looked into his rear view mirror and saw Vic following along behind him, for a moment he wondered if he put his foot down if he'd be able to lose him on the way. Dutch laughed at himself and decided what was done was done, he'd just have to make the best of it.

The drive home was uneventful, and when they got to Dutch's house he helped Vic bring his stuff inside. After he'd given Vic a tour of the house assuring him that he was to help himself to anything he wanted, just as a good host should, he showed him the guest bedroom.

"Like I said make yourself at home, I'm kinda tired and think I'll just take a shower and go straight to bed." He told Vic.

"Yeah sure, look thanks a lot for this Dutch, I really appreciate it." Vic said.

Feeling a little ashamed of himself for his earlier thoughts Dutch answered,

"That's OK, its no problem."

"Well anyway thanks. Umm I think I'll unpack some stuff you know, and then I'll take a shower after your finished, if that's OK?" Vic replied looking slightly uncomfortable.

"That's fine, I'll see you in the morning," Dutch told him, turning away towards his bedroom.

Dutch collected his stuff from his room and returned to the bathroom for his shower. He finished quickly, aware that Vic would probably be waiting for his turn. He pulled on a tee shirt and jogging bottoms, brushed his teeth and left the bathroom.

"I'm finished," he called out to Vic. "I left some clean towels on the chair in the bathroom."

"Thanks," Vic called through the door of his room. "Goodnight."

"Oh yeah, goodnight." Dutch called back, escaping to his bedroom.

Lying in his bed Dutch could hear the shower running, it seemed strange for there to be someone else in the house, he'd gotten used to living on his own again after Lucy had left. Yawning he turned over pulling the comforter up over his shoulder and had dropped off to sleep before Vic had even finished his shower.

It seemed to Dutch that he'd only been asleep for an hour or so when something woke him up. Opening his eyes he saw a figure standing by his bed, puzzled for a second he remembered Vic,

"Remember the bathroom's right next to your room." He mumbled turning over and closing his eyes. However, he was startled to complete wakefulness in a second when a strange voice replied,

"Thanks that's good to know."

Dutch turned squinting his eyes against the light as his bedside lamp was switched on and found himself staring into the barrel of a gun.


	2. Trespass Chapter 2

Disclaimer: - I don't own any of the characters of The Shield, they all belong to Shawn Ryan and FX.

Trespass – Chapter 2.

Dutch was stunned for a moment, frozen in shock, he was mesmerized by the black opening of the gun barrel which was pointed at his face. He slowly looked up, careful not to make any sudden movements; the man standing over him was dressed in black and wore a black ski mask. This last fact made Dutch feel a little better, if the perpetrator was covering his face, hiding his identity it was more likely that he'd make it out of this alive.

"Jesus alright I'm moving." Vic Mackey's pissed off voice sounded outside the door, and suddenly a second masked man pushed him into the room at gunpoint.

"Looky here we've got two for the price of one." The man with Vic laughed.

"Hmm that makes things more interesting don't you think." The man holding Dutch at gunpoint replied in an amused voice.

Taking a steadying breath Dutch decided to get on with this, the sooner these two got what they wanted the sooner they'd be gone. Shit it was bad enough that this had to happen at all, but for it to happen when Vic was staying with him was just perfect. He slowly pushed himself up so he was sitting up in the bed, his open hands held out in front of him, palms facing the man nearest to him in a placating gesture,

"My wallet's on the dresser over there, I think there's about $40 in it that's all the cash in the house, but my credit cards are in there. The TV, video, DVD player and stereo are downstairs in the living room, and my mobile phone and car keys are on the counter in the kitchen. Just take what you want and go."

He informed them wanting this over and them out of his house as quickly as possible, he just hoped that Vic had the good sense not to antagonize them with any of his testosterone fuelled macho bullshit. 

"Oh don't worry we intend to take everything we want, but you see what we want wasn't on that neat little list of yours." The gunman nearest to him stated, his voice still sounding amused.

Dutch frowned, confused he didn't understand what this guy was going on about, and there was something about the amused, smug quality of his voice that sent a shiver up his spine. Dutch suddenly got the feeling that this situation was about to get ugly fast, he glanced in Vic's direction and saw his concern echoed on his tense face. Turning back to look up at the masked man by his bed he asked,

"I don't understand, what is it that you want then?"

"Don't worry you'll find out soon enough." The man replied as he stepped back, keeping the gun trained on Dutch the whole time. "Get out of bed…slowly. We don't want any sudden movements, any misunderstandings that'll lead to my gun going off now do we."

Left with no choice but to do as he'd been told Dutch slowly pushed the comforter away from his body and swung his legs out of the bed, slowly standing.

"Good boy, now move over there," The man used the gun to indicate that Dutch should move over to a space between the bedside table and the other wall. "When you get there turn and face the wall, use you're hands to lean against the wall with them above your head and open your legs. I'm sure you know what I mean hmm…assume the position as they say on the cop shows."

Dutch hesitated glancing again at Vic.

"Hey!" The man shouted at him, sounding irritated, "I said get over there, now move!"

"Ok, ok I'm going." Dutch assured him, moving to the spot the man had indicated and turning his back he stood as he'd been told. He didn't like not being able to see what was going on, and he felt horribly exposed somehow standing like that. He heard the other gunman speaking to Vic,

"Right you turn around and put your hands behind your back. Slowly and no sudden movements, be sensible like your friend over there or else you'll be dead."

There was a pause and then the sound of a fist hitting something solid, a muffled grunt coming from Vic. Dutch began to turn his head wanting to see what had happened, but was stopped when he felt the cold metal of the gun barrel pushed hard up against his temple.

"I didn't say you could move, face the wall, now." He was told a jab of the gun against his head emphasising the last word. Biting his lip in frustration Dutch did as he was told, and returned his gaze to the pale lemon wall in front of him. However, he felt better when he heard Vic calling the gunman who'd hit him a,

"Stupid son of a bitch."

"Watch your mouth, or you'll get another slap. Now when I said hands behind your back slowly I meant slowly…now do as you're told." The man nearest to him told Vic. "Right that's better." Were his next words, Dutch felt relieved that Vic was being sensible and not getting himself into any more trouble.

"Come on hurry up and tie his hands, I want to start the game." Dutch's captor impatiently informed his partner.

So Vic's hands were being tied behind his back Dutch figured, wondering why his hadn't been. He also wondered what had been meant by "…the game."

"Done." Vic's captor said.

"At last." The man next to Dutch huffed. 

Dutch felt a hand grab the back of his tee shirt at the neck and pull back on it,

"Alright stand up straight." He was instructed. Feeling the neck at the front of the shirt being pulled tightly across the front of his throat he quickly complied, relieved when the hand was removed and the material of the shirt ceased to cut into his skin. "Turn around and keep it nice and slow."

When he'd done as he was told Dutch saw that his suspicions concerning Vic were correct, his arms were drawn behind him and it was obvious that he'd had his hands tied together. At least he looked alright, whatever the blow that he'd heard being inflicted on Vic hadn't left a visible mark or drawn blood which was a relief. Dutch still hoped that whatever was going on that he and Vic would get out of it relatively unharmed. Deep down Dutch felt a little guilty that Vic was here at all, if he'd kept his mouth shut earlier Vic would be safely asleep on Shane Vendrell's couch. Of course he felt even guiltier when he realised he was actually a little glad that Vic was here, at least he wasn't alone with the two intruders.

There was a strange moment of silence as the four of them regarded each other; it was Vic, who finally broke it,

"What do you want, why don't you just take the stuff and go?"

"Like I told sleeping beauty here," The perp by Dutch replied, his voice once again taking on that amused tone. "We aren't here for money and videos."

"What then?" Vic asked again.

The man by Vic laughed, 

"Go on tell them, I can't wait to see their faces."

The man by Dutch, who seemed to be the leader of the two men, moved slightly so he could see both Dutch's and Vic's faces at the same time. Pausing for a second he finally began,

"Well see it's like this the four of us are going to play a little game, now the name of this game is screw or die. Here are the rules, they're pretty simple really, and two smart guys like you should have no problem understanding them. See first I'm going to fuck sleeping beauty here and then when I'm done my friend there is going to fuck him, and he's going to let us, because if he doesn't the tough guy over there gets his head blown off and we fuck him anyway. Now you're probably wondering why we don't just do that anyway, but you see we find this more amusing and a good game should always be amusing don't you think? Of course you have to get a prize if you play by the rules and that prize will be your lives, if you cooperate you both get to live, if not then bang!" As he said this he aimed his gun at Vic and mimicked firing it.

Vic's response was immediate,

"Fuck you you prick!"

"No actually it's fuck him," The first gunman replied, nodding his head in Dutch's direction. 

He then turned to the gunman next to Vic and nodded, the man immediately shoved his gun under Vic's chin pushing his head up at an uncomfortable angle. Turning back to Dutch the first man merely said one word, 

"Strip."

Dutch's mind was in turmoil, panic welling up inside him. He couldn't believe what he'd heard, Jesus what was he going to do. He turned towards Vic their eyes locked.

"I said strip." The gunman's calm voice sounded again. 


	3. Trespass Chapter 3

Disclaimer: - I don't own any of the characters of The Shield, they all belong to Shawn Ryan and FX.

Trespass – Chapter 3.

Dutch stared at Vic, frozen he stood like a deer caught in the head lights, his face draining of colour as the enormity of the gunman's words sunk in. Tearing his gaze away from Vic's as the gunman repeated his order for him to strip he turned to the man,

"Your joking right…I mean…I mean you can't be serious?" He managed to stammer out.

"Oh we're perfectly serious. Now I'm not a patient man so you'd better start concentrating and doing as you're told or your friend over there is going to have a pretty short life span." He was told. "Strip!"

Dutch realised to his horror that they were indeed serious and glancing at the man who held a gun on Vic he was sure he saw his trigger finger twitch. Finding his voice he said,

"Alright, alright just…can you take the gun away from his head. God what if it goes off by accident or something…please just don't point it at him ok?"

"Fine." The man by Dutch said nodding to his partner who lowered his gun letting Vic lower his head from the uncomfortable angle it had been held at. "But keep the gun on him, I don't trust him not to try and be a hero." He added, eliciting a chuckle from his friend.

He turned back to Dutch and stood there looking at him expectantly, slowly and reluctantly Dutch reached down taking hold of the bottom of his tee shirt and pulled it up and over his head. He stood for a moment with it in his hands, not sure what to do with it, wishing he could disappear, melt through the floor anything just escape from here, from now, then he thought of Vic and felt guilty for his selfishness he wasn't alone in this ordeal. Dropping the tee shirt to the floor in front of him Dutch took a steadying breath and prepared to push his jogging bottoms down his legs. He looked at the man in front of him wishing he could smack that self-satisfied smirk from his face. Dropping his eyes to the floor Dutch pushed the jogging bottoms down, glad that he had worn a pair of boxer shorts underneath. Once he'd stepped out of the material pooled at his feet he kept hold of it and held it in front of himself like a shield.

"All of it." The man told him.

Dutch looked him in the eye,

"Don't." Was all he asked.

The gunman cocked his head to the side and smiled at him,

"Now." He replied in a laughing tone.

He dropped the jogging bottoms to the floor to join the discarded tee shirt and he bit his bottom lip in nervousness as he pushed his shorts down. Straightening up and stepping out of them he could feel his face burning in humiliation, his hands automatically went to his crotch, covering his genitals. The man in front of him laughed at him and said,

"Put your hands on your head so I can get a proper look at you."

It was Vic who spoke then,

"Oh Christ stop it, leave him alone. Just take the money and go, look I've got a couple of hundred bucks back in the other room, just take that and leave."

"Money, money, money is that all you two think about. Some things are more important than money, and much more fun." The leader of the two men told him in a fake disapproving tone. "Now put your hands on your head, you know what'll happen if you don't." He then told Dutch.

Dutch dropped his gaze to the floor as he complied, he could feel himself blushing, and somehow that just added to his embarrassment. He was mortified when he realised the man by him was walking slowly around him inspecting him like a piece of meat.

"Nice, a bit skinny, but nice." The man murmured.

Dutch felt himself go even redder when he heard this, although he hadn't thought that was possible.

"Oh look doesn't he blush nicely." The man said and his partner laughed. "Shy are you hmm?" He asked as he stood behind Dutch and he leaned in close to him.

Dutch started, a small cry of surprise escaping from him as the man touched him, lightly brushing his fingertips across his shoulders, Dutch shivered as the touch left him. The man moved around to stand in front of Dutch and he placed one finger under his chin applying pressure and said,

"Look up, look at me."

Reluctantly Dutch obeyed and found himself looking into the other man's blue eyes. The man was about an inch taller than Dutch, but with a bigger more muscular build. The man just stared at him, completely focused on him, it was as if Vic and the other man had ceased to exist, Dutch found it unnerving and dropped his eyes again.

"You can put your hands down now." He told Dutch. "But keep them at your side." He quickly added when he saw that Dutch was going to cover himself again.

Dutch could feel his heart thudding in his chest, a roaring filled his ears as the moment seemed to stretch on and on, in the end he almost asked the man to do or say something, that moment of anticipation excruciating. The moment was broken by the man's voice calmly telling him,

"Reach out, undo my zipper and pull out my dick."

Dutch's eyes flicked back up to the man's face, trying to gauge if he was serious, the determined look in his eyes told him he was. Dutch felt his mouth go dry with fear as he hesitated, he knew that once he complied events would be set into motion that he couldn't control, events that he wasn't sure he'd survive. Seeing his hesitation the man said,

"If you don't you know what's going to happen. You're going to get fucked either way, but this way if you cooperate you can at least save your friend's life. Do you really want his death on your conscience?"

Dutch heard Vic's voice then, barely controlled anger evident in every syllable,

"Oh, fuck…you bastard."

Dutch wanted to look at him, he wanted to look in Vic's eyes, for what he wasn't sure, strength, forgiveness; there was one thing he was sure of though, that when this was over if they both survived he'd never be able to look Vic in the eye again, he'd be too ashamed. His hand was shaking as he reached out, his fingers fumbling with the zipper. The sound of the zipper being pulled down was deafening to Dutch's ears, competing with the frantic thudding of his heartbeat. He reached slowly inside, his fingertips brushing against the cotton of the other man's underwear as he found the opening at the front of his shorts. Dutch had to swallow down bile as it rose in his throat as his fingers touched the burning heat of the man's skin. The man didn't react at all he didn't move, just stood completely still in front of Dutch watching his face, watching the cavalcade of emotions as they tumbled by one after another, shame, fear, disgust, uncertainty. Dutch tentatively gripped the other man's semi-erect penis, pulling it free from his trousers, his gaze shifting to the side, not wanting to see it, not wanting to see his hand touching it. Not sure what he was supposed to do he stayed like that, his hand still trembling.

"Good, see that wasn't so hard now was it?" The man spoke again. "Now get on your knees."

Dutch pulled his hand away, his mind in a whirl as the implication of what was going to happen next hung heavy in the air. He could feel the sting of tears in his eyes, he felt weak but he couldn't stop himself from looking back up at the man and asking,

"Please don't…don't do this…don't make me do this…I…I don't want to."

It sounded pathetic even to his ears, but it just spilled from his lips. The man smiled at him again and said,

"That's the whole point, haven't you realised that yet. Now do as I say."

Knowing he had no choice, Dutch dropped to his knees in front of the man feeling everything he held dear about his life, about himself slipping away from him, about to be lost forever.


	4. Trespass Chapter 4

Disclaimer: - I don't own any of the characters of The Shield, they all belong to Shawn Ryan and FX.

Trespass – Chapter 4.

He wore a slightly battered pair of Reebok training shoes, one lace fraying at the end; Dutch studied the gunman's shoes trying to keep the panic he could feel welling up in his chest at bay. 

"Don't look at the floor, look at me." He was told.

Reluctantly he tore his gaze away from the Reebok's and looked up at his tormentor.

"That's better…now have you ever sucked a guy's dick before?" The man asked him.

For a second Dutch had a hysterical urge to laugh, what was this some kind of survey into his sexual experience. Instead of a laugh however a slight whimper escaped him as he shook his head.

"I didn't think so," The other man said, almost kindly. "Well never mind, what you lack in experience I expect you to make up for in enthusiasm."

Dutch didn't move just stayed there on his knees staring up at the other man.

"Well?" The man asked.

Dutch actually glanced at the man's penis which was right in front of him and then back up at the man's face, swallowing he said in a quiet, trembling voice,

"I don't think I can."

The man turned from him and nodded to his partner and once again Dutch heard Vic grunt in pain as he was punched. He didn't want to hear that sound again so closing his eyes he opened his mouth and leant forward resting his hands on his thighs and took the gunman's penis into his mouth. He gagged on the musky smell of the other man, on the taste of sweat and even urine on his tongue. God he thought, how do women do this it was disgusting. He heard a sigh from the man standing over him and felt him reach down and grasp his hair.

"Well don't just sit there… suck it boy." The man ordered him the grip in his hair tightening.

Dutch heard himself sob and felt tears spilling down his cheeks as he complied. He heard that sound again, Vic being hit, and then the other gunman's voice sneering at Vic,

"Open your eyes and watch, he's doing this for you."

Dutch felt a wave of shame wash over him. They were standing side onto Vic and the other man so he knew that right now Vic was watching him kneeling on the floor, crying, with some guy's dick in his mouth, giving him a blow job. The man above him groaned and began to move his hips thrusting his dick into Dutch's mouth, making him gag. He could feel the man's penis growing in his mouth, and then Dutch tasted a salty, bitterness on his tongue, the man's pre-cum.

"Oh fuck yeah, that's it." He heard the man groaning as his erection banged against the back of his throat.

Dutch tried to breathe around the other man's flesh, trying to pull in a breath when he pulled out slightly before slamming back into his mouth. He was left gasping for breath when the man suddenly withdrew, letting go of his hair and stepping back.

"Oh no not that easy…I got something even better than that planned for you." The gunman told him as he reached down grabbing Dutch by the hair again and pulling him upright, the other gunman was prodding Vic in the back with his gun, moving him to stand near them. Dutch caught a glimpse of Vic's face, his mouth drawn into a tight line, his eyes blazing anger and he wondered how much of that angry, disapproving expression was aimed at him. He felt sure that Vic must be disgusted with him, must think him weak, Dutch quickly turned his face away from him.

"Here take my gun and make sure you keep a close eye on that one." The man who held Dutch told his friend.

"Yeah sure I know. Just get on with it man I'm still waiting for my turn you know." The other man replied impatiently.

"I can see that." The leader of the two of them laughed.

Dutch couldn't help himself, he glanced at the man holding Vic in curiosity and instantly regretted it when he saw him rub at the obvious bulge at the crotch of his trousers. He saw the man push Vic down onto his knees and stand behind him the gun pointed at the back of his bowed head. Then he was pulled away by the vicious hand in his hair, pulled towards his bed. Instinctively he tried to dig his feet in, pulling back, not wanting to go there. The man reached out and used his other hand to grab Dutch's arm in a bruising grip,

"Don't fuck with me." He hissed his tone dangerous.

Once at the bed he let go of Dutch's hair, though he still held on tightly to his arm, and reached up pulling Dutch's pillows down to the middle of the bed one on top of the other.

"Get on the bed," He told Dutch. "Lie on your back and make sure those pillows are under your ass. I want to be able to look into your eyes while I fuck you."

Dutch froze, staring at the bed, at the pillows, his mind shutting down as fear consumed him. He began shaking his head, taking a tentative step backwards,

"No, no, no, no, no…" He muttered.

He felt a fist punching him in the face, his lip splitting open and blood in his mouth. He stumbled back, half falling onto the bed, then he had the gunman's face in his, spitting venom at him,

"Get up on that bed now or you can watch while I kick the shit out of your friend over there."

Dutch reached up a shaking hand to his mouth wiping away some of the blood as he reluctantly obeyed, realizing he had no choice, that he'd never had a choice.


	5. Trespass Chapter 5

Disclaimer: - I don't own any of the characters of The Shield, they all belong to Shawn Ryan and FX.

Trespass – Chapter 5.

Dutch lay on his back staring up at his bedroom ceiling and he'd never felt so exposed in his life. He felt completely rigid every muscle in his body clenched tight with tension and fear. His hands were held in fists at his sides, his legs clamped together so tight that it felt as if it would take a crow bar to open them, sadly he knew that in reality all it would take would be more violence or the threat of violence against Vic. He heard a thump on the floor and turning his head slightly to the side he saw one of the gunman's slightly battered Reeboks hitting the floor as he slipped first one then the other shoe off. When he began to undo his trousers Dutch resolutely turned his gaze back to the ceiling, trying unsuccessfully to blink away the tears which were blurring his vision, instead he felt the tears escaping from the corners of his eyes and slide into his hair. For a second he wished it was Vic lying here instead of him, why had they chosen him instead of Vic, he felt guilty for wishing this on anyone, but he just didn't want it to be him. He felt the bed dip as the gunman, soon to be his rapist, sat on the edge and flinched when he felt the man's hand come to rest on his thigh. It didn't move just rested there the heat of it burning him. He jumped again when the man spoke to him,

"I'll bet you've never been fucked up the ass before have you?"

Dutch didn't know what to do, didn't know what to say, not sure if he could even speak if he tried.

"I asked you a question." The man said squeezing Dutch's thigh hard with his hand.

Dutch just shook his head.

"Never mind I like it that way…I like breaking in virgins." The man laughed, his grip on Dutch's thigh lessening as he rubbed his hand up and down over the area he'd just bruised.

The hand continued to move stroking its way up over his hip across his stomach, Dutch could feel his stomach muscles fluttering as the light touch danced over them.

"You should relax, you're so tense." The man mocked him, making fun of his fear.

That polluting hand carried on stroking its way up to Dutch's chest, fingering first one nipple and then the other, and then up to the side of his face where it stopped the palm gently cupping his cheek. The pressure increased on his cheek as the man turned Dutch's face towards him, Dutch felt the bed dipping even lower as the man leaned forward over him. Dutch found himself looking into a pair of cold blue eyes as the gunman leaned even closer, his face just a inch from Dutch's. 

"If you bite me your friend will suffer." He warned.

Then he closed the gap between them his lips on Dutch's as he kissed him. Dutch instinctively tried to pull away but he was trapped between the man above him and the bed below him with no where to go. He felt the man's tongue like a serpent pushing his lips apart, pushing itself into his mouth. The man groaned into his mouth as his hand moved from Dutch's face travelling down over his body coming to rest on his genitals, the man possessively squeezing his flaccid penis. His hard, rough touch made Dutch gasp in pain and the man's kiss deepened, his mouth becoming bruising, his touch rougher. Suddenly Dutch started in pain as the man bit down on his lower lip, breaking the skin adding more blood to what was already there from the punch earlier. When the man pulled his head back Dutch felt disgust well up inside him when he saw his blood on the other man's lips. Dutch felt cold fear coil in his gut when he saw the lust which was burning in the other man's eyes and he knew this was it, it was really going to happen, he was really going to be raped. There wasn't going to be some last minute rescue, Vic wasn't going to come up with a fiendish plan and save him, the half naked man who's erection he could feel digging into his hip wasn't going to laugh and say,

"Hey just a joke…just fucking with you man, now where did you say the DVD player was?"

No this was real, it was really going to happen, and he did the one thing he didn't want to do, the one thing he'd promised himself he wouldn't do, he turned his head towards Vic and looked him in the eyes and said,

"Vic please help me…do something…help me…p…pl…please."

He saw a look of pain and pity cross Vic's face before the gunman slapped his face saying,

"Don't look at him, I want you to be looking right at me when I take you."

The man sat back both his hands going to Dutch's thighs as he began to pry them apart. Dutch knew he was supposed to cooperate but he couldn't the harder the man tried, the more bruises were etched into his flesh, the harder Dutch fought to keep his legs together. Finally the man lost patience his fist smashing into Dutch's stomach the air whooshing out of his lungs at the blow. A second blow quickly following the first and Dutch was trying to curl in on himself, trying to drag oxygen into his badly winded body. The gunman, the rapist, seized his opportunity pushing Dutch's legs apart, positioning himself between them. Dutch cried out in pain and distress when he felt the man's finger jab into him,

"Oh yeah," The man breathed, "nice and tight, just like I like it."

Dutch tried to pull away, tried to push his heels into the bed so he could scoot up the bed away from this monster, but the man held his hips in a punishing grip and the way the pillows under his hips canted his backside up and off the surface of the bed made it impossible for him to get any purchase to push with. The man was kneeling up pulling Dutch towards him, up partially onto his lap, Dutch was panicking reaching behind him, his hands scrabbling for something to grab onto to halt his inexorable slide towards his rape. All he could grab was the sheet of his bed which he bunched into his fists, the man began to lean over him, above his uncontrollable sobs he could hear the other man, the one by Vic, the one who would rape him next egging his friend on, laughing,

"Oh yeah man, see him fight…you going to fight me like that boy huh? Go on fuck him…come on fuck him so I can have my turn!"

Then he felt it, hard and seeming impossibly big, poking at his ass, terror flared in him, he brought his hands forward swinging wildly at the man over him. He felt his fist clip the man's arm then he felt him let go of his hip and the man's fist hit his cheek, rattling his teeth with it's force.

"That's right you fight you little shit it just makes it more fun for me now." He told Dutch.

Then his hand returned to Dutch's hip and he paused for a moment and then lunged forward with all his weight behind him. Dutch screamed as the man's penis ripped its way into his body, the pain excruciating, unlike anything he'd ever felt before. He felt his back rear up from the bed as the sensation of his flesh tearing, being ripped apart rushed through him. Dutch could feel his muscles clamping around the invader trying to expel it from his body. The man grunted with the effort, paused and then thrust himself the rest of the way into him. It felt to Dutch as if he was being torn in two, the burning agony consuming him from the inside out. The man began to move in him, every thrust a torment, Dutch cried out with every movement, squeezed his eyes shut, feeling himself being driven into the mattress below him. A stinging slap cut through his torture, he snapped his eyes open to see his rapist glaring down at him,

"Keep your fucking eyes open…look at me!"

Dutch's mind was in a whirl, shutting itself down, he couldn't think straight, his world comprising of nothing but the agony consuming him and the twisted face above him. The man stared into his open eyes, sweat from his forehead dripping down onto Dutch's face. He changed position lying more fully on top of Dutch, but he planted his hands on either side of Dutch's head. His arms locked at the elbows so that he could keep looking into Dutch's face as he raped him. The change of position made his thrusts longer and deeper his penis rhythmically stabbing into Dutch's body. As he looked into the face above him Dutch could see the man's lips moving and as Dutch's screams turned into pained moans he could hear what the man was saying,

"Fucking yes…oh fuck that's good… so fucking tight."

Then the man began to grunt as he lowered himself down over Dutch's body, his head buried in the curve between Dutch's shoulder and neck. As he grunted out his pleasure, his cum being released deep into Dutch's bleeding body he bit down on the soft skin of Dutch's shoulder making him cry out again. Then he stilled, his heavy weight pressing Dutch down into the bed, suffocating him. Then the weight was gone, the man pulling himself up and away from him. He could hear him laughing, slightly breathless as he whooped and said,

"Shit that was good… he was fucking tight. Nothing like a virgin."

Dutch could feel the warmth of blood and other fluids leaking from his broken body, coating his inner thighs, running down to his buttocks, soaking into the bed beneath him. He turned his back on those mocking self-congratulatory voices, slowly pulling his knees up to his chest, trying to make himself as small as possible, he lay on his side and felt his soul shatter into a million irretrievable pieces. 


	6. Trespass Chapter 6

Disclaimer: - I don't own any of the characters of The Shield, they all belong to Shawn Ryan and FX.

Trespass – Chapter 6.

Dutch tried unsuccessfully to block everything out. He didn't want to hear those ugly voices laughing at him, at his anguish, saying dirty, nasty things; he didn't want to see those twisted, perverted men; he didn't want to see Vic held at gunpoint unable to help him, his face probably filled with the disgust and contempt he must feel when he looked at him, but most of all he didn't want to feel. He didn't want to feel the shame and humiliation that filled him, he didn't want to feel the blood and God knows what else that was running down the insides of his thighs, and he definitely didn't want to feel the pain, an agonizing, aching throb in his backside and lower abdomen. He was huddled on his side, curled up in a fetal position, his arms wrapped around his body as though if he didn't hold himself in this enclosed position he'd fly apart, and if that happened it might be impossible for the pieces to be put back together again. His eyes were squeezed shut and he was trying to ignore the silent tears that leaked from them no matter how tightly he kept them closed, and he tried to ignore the trembling which had seized his entire body no matter how tightly he curled in on himself. He started, his heart fluttering and a whimper escaping from his mouth when a hand grabbed at his upper arm, and a sneering voice said,

"Get over here your not finished yet lover…my turn now."

Dutch pulled against that grip, fear and panic beginning to surge through him, adrenaline coursing through him. With a wordless cry he kicked out, yanking his arm away from that poisonous touch he frantically moved across the bed trying to put as much distance between himself and his attacker as he could, trying to escape when there was no escape.

"Oh no you don't get away that easy!" Shouted the man as he lunged across the bed grabbing Dutch and punching him on the lower back at the same time.

New pain flared where the man's fist had impacted just above Dutch's right kidney, it's intensity momentarily incapacitating him. Several more blows to the same area left him gasping trying not to vomit from the agony consuming him. Having lost his ability to fight back, his body just trying to get through the hurt which had been inflicted upon it, Dutch felt himself being pulled back towards his second rape.

The second man had handed his weapon over to the first attacker, who now guarded Vic who was still kneeling on the floor by the bed the gun pressed against the back of his head, just under his right ear. Dutch saw his face pale and haunted looking as he was positioned by his new attacker on his stomach near the edge of the bed. The man who was positioning him was naked from the waist down, as his friend had been before, that friend who was now fully dressed again grinning at him from behind Vic, his head down close to Vic's whispering in his ear. Dutch could catch some of the things being whispered, the rapist telling Vic what it had been like, how much he'd enjoyed himself, how it had felt to force his way inside of Dutch's body; asking Vic if he'd enjoyed watching it, if it had turned him on, asking him if he wanted a turn next. Then the man had glanced up looking into Dutch's eyes smiling and had laughingly said to his friend,

"Come on man get on with your sloppy seconds I think the tough guy here might want a taste when you're through."

"Shut up you sick prick. When this is over I'm going to find you and fucking kill you." Vic hissed his voice tight with fury.

"Keep your mouth shut and watch motherfucker, or I'll forget that little deal we've got and just kill the pair of you when we're done." The man threatened.

Dutch felt the his legs being forced apart as the second man knelt between them, he wanted to fight, to escape but he couldn't move terror overwhelming him. His brain was screaming at him to get away but his body, his muscles wouldn't obey, he had heard the phrase "frozen with fear" and now he knew how that felt. It was as if his mind and his body didn't belong to each other anymore, neither cooperating with the other. He felt the man behind him reach under him, his arm wrapped around his waist, pulling him back, pulling his backside slightly up in the air. Then Dutch felt the weight of the other man as he draped himself over his back. This second entry was even more painful than the first, the torn and bruised tissues inside him flaring in pain at this second assault, the sick feeling of his own flesh ripping and tearing deep inside making Dutch feel dizzy. Dutch's face was turned into the mattress and he screamed his distress deep into it. While the man raped him he could feel him racking his nails down his back, it felt as if he was being clawed by an animal. With each thrust the man grunted and dug his nails in, while Dutch, his voice finally screamed out, just whimpered and sobbed. It seemed like an eternity to Dutch before the rapist finally stilled for a moment and then emptied his filth deep inside of him with a sick cry of triumph. He felt the sweat soaked body above him rest on his back for a moment before it moved away, the air that moved over his skin chilling him to the bone. He felt he should move cover his shame somehow but he couldn't, he had no energy left inside of him, all that was inside him now was dirty and corrupted.


	7. Trespass Chapter 7

Disclaimer: - I don't own any of the characters of The Shield, they all belong to Shawn Ryan and FX.

Trespass – Chapter 7.

At least it was over, Dutch could hear the two men laughing comparing notes on how it had been to rape him, he shut them out not wanting to listen to them describing that, describing him, he tried to pretend they were talking about a stranger. Of course in a way they were because he suddenly wasn't sure who he was any more, before this night he had thought he was certain of who he was. He might not always have liked what he'd seen, wanting to be different, to be more confident, to get along with people more easily, but he'd known who he was, now he felt as though everything he knew about himself had been turned on it's head. If anyone had asked him just a few short hours ago if he'd let two men have sex with him, rape him, he'd have been insulted that they'd asked the question. His denial would have been emphatic, but here he was lying on his bed with two different men's semen running out of him after he'd just lain there and let them take him. Intellectually he knew he'd had no choice, that Vic's life had been on the line, that that life was more important than his honour, his dignity, but it didn't really help. He felt disgusted with himself, he felt like a coward, he felt dirty, he felt broken. The only thing he could console himself with was that one thought; at least it was over. Now the men would leave, after all they'd played their game and he'd played by their rules, and they'd told him and Vic that when they'd gotten what they'd wanted they'd leave. Well he'd given them what they'd wanted so now it was over and all that was left was for him to try and pull himself together, try to piece his life back together again.

Dutch had been so caught up in his own thoughts that when a hand touched his arm he'd nearly jumped out of his own skin. Turning panicked eyes towards the owner of that hand he found himself face to face with his first rapist, the man's amused eyes staring into his, that smug grin still on his face. Dutch felt fear surge through him, God what if they'd lied, what if they were going to do that to him again? He tried to pull away, wincing as pain shot through him,

"No, no…d…don't touch me…leave me alone." He begged tears welling up in his eyes, "no more please…just leave me alone."

"Aw baby, don't you want to play anymore huh…and I thought we'd had so much fun together." The man smirked, pressing himself down on Dutch. "I'm hurt you know…I thought we had something special…what with me being your first and all."

Dutch looked up at him and said,

"Please don't." 

Even though he knew it would do him no good, because he was trapped. When he'd agreed to play by their rules he'd trapped himself, left himself with no escape and now he'd have to pay for that, he'd have to play their game by their rules until they decided it was over.

"Don't be like that now," The man told him, "I've got something special for you, a surprise."

He moved back from Dutch his hand still grasping his arm he pulled him forward and off the bed. Dutch slid off onto the floor, trying to ignore the pain in his lower body that the movement caused, the man crouched down next to him, leaning into him, and Dutch could feel the man's body heat on his chilled flesh and shivered. Dutch looked for Vic; he needed to know that he was still all right, that he was still safe. The second man was guarding him and he'd been moved, he was standing again, his hands still tied behind his back. He was standing against the wall where Dutch had been made to stand earlier, he wasn't looking at Dutch, but Dutch frowned to see blood on his face and on the front of his tee shirt. It was hard to see from here but it looked as if Vic had been hit in the face, his nose bloodied, his lip cut open and swollen. Dutch wondered when that had happened and how he hadn't realised, then he shuddered and knew that he'd probably been otherwise occupied at the time. The second gunman by Vic was talking to him, Dutch couldn't hear what was being said but from the look on Vic's face it couldn't be good. Vic's face was pale, his lips drawn into a tight, hard line his whole body taut, vibrant with tension. A warm breath caressed Dutch's ear as the man by him leaned in close, his lips brushing against Dutch's outer ear as he spoke so quietly Dutch had to strain over the sound of his own thudding heartbeat to hear what he was saying,

"You see we've not finished the game yet, 'cause I like to play fair and we've not done that. I've gotten to play, and my friend he's gotten to play and you…well you've certainly gotten to play, but see the tough guy over there he's not gotten to play and that just ain't fair."

Dutch stared at Vic wondering where this was going, what was that sick mind going to come up with now? Were they going to make him watch while they attacked Vic? That thought made Dutch feel ill, Jesus was this nightmare ever going to end he thought. He was ashamed at the faltering he heard in his voice when he asked the man,

"What do you mean…what are you going to do? God…God haven't you done enough?"

"A person would think you didn't have any fun tonight," The man taunted Dutch, "cause you know I had fun and I'm sure my friend enjoyed himself…now it's time for tough guy there to have some fun. I was talking with him before you know, while you were entertaining my friend. I was telling him all about you, how great it felt fucking you, how good it was to feel you struggling under me and do you know what I think he got turned on. He looks like the kind of guy who likes to take what he wants…huh what do you think?"

"No!" Dutch's voice, his denial of the twisted words he'd heard, sounded loud in the room and he caught a glimpse of Vic's face as he glanced quickly in his direction. Dutch shuddered at the expression on Vic's face; it was cold, stony, closed down. 

"Oh yeah I'm afraid so, see you have to play one more time before the game's finished. You're going to go over to your friend there, you're going to get on your knees and your going to suck his cock like a good boy." The man whispered into Dutch's ear. He tried to turn his face away, squeezing his eyes shut trying to blot out the hated, sick words but the man grabbed his chin in a painfully tight grip, refusing to let Dutch turn away. "You're going to do a good job to, you're going to do such a good job you'll make him cum in your mouth, and when he does you're going to swallow every drop he gives you, and you'll keep it down…no throwing up. If you don't make him cum, if you don't keep it down I'll make you watch while I blow his fucking head off…do you understand me?"

"Not this…don't do this…please don't." Dutch sobbed.

The grip on his chin tightened even more, Dutch was sure he could actually feel the finger tip bruises that would be left there forming on his skin.

"Fucking shut up you whining bitch," The man hissed at him. "You'll do what you're fucking well told…now get over there and get on with it!"

Releasing Dutch's chin the man grabbed onto his hair and with his other hand on his arm he dragged Dutch over to where Vic was standing, dumping him in a heap at Vic's feet. When he didn't move the man drew back his foot and kicked him in the ribs,

"Get on with it, come on!"

Slowly, reluctantly Dutch pulled himself up onto his knees, his eyes clenched shut, sure that Vic must already hate him for what he'd done, what he'd become, God knows he hated himself, but this would be too much. Jesus if he forced Vic to do this Dutch was sure he'd kill him, after this was over Vic would put a bullet into him, and to be honest Dutch wasn't sure if he'd try to stop him, if he'd blame him if he did. Knowing that he'd trapped himself into this situation, that he only had himself to blame, and that he couldn't sink any lower Dutch took a deep breath and opened his eyes. 


	8. Trespass Chapter 8

Disclaimer: - I don't own any of the characters of The Shield, they all belong to Shawn Ryan and FX.

Trespass – Chapter 8.

He wanted time to stop, just freeze everything and everybody as they were; or maybe he wanted time to fast forward, jump ahead a day, a week, a month, a year, a lifetime. One or the other Dutch wasn't sure which, on the one hand this next abomination would never take place, on the other hand it would be over with, finished and in the past. He wasn't sure which he'd pick if he was given a choice, but one thing he knew for sure was that he didn't want to be in the present, he didn't want to have to experience the next moments of his life. A kick to his back, not hard enough to incapacitate him but enough to hurt, served as a reminder that time was passing relentlessly and he knew he couldn't stall any longer. He wanted to say something to Vic, to apologize for what he was about to do to him, to beg for his forgiveness, Dutch wasn't sure which, but he couldn't. After all what could he say that would make this any easier, what could he say to vindicate himself? Besides he'd seen Vic's face before when he'd glanced in his direction briefly when the first gunman had told him what was going to happen, when he'd told him what he was going to have to do. He'd looked cold and closed off, Dutch didn't think Vic would be in the mood to accept his mumbled appeals for forgiveness. He probably felt enough contempt for him without adding to it. Then he felt another kick in his back, and an impatient,

"Come on we're waiting!"

Taking a deep breath and trying very hard not to think about what he was actually doing Dutch reached out a trembling hand towards Vic's boxer shorts. He could feel bile rising in his throat and swallowed the burning liquid back down; he wasn't allowed to be sick that had been made perfectly clear. He watched as his hand slipped inside the pale blue material and touched Vic's warm flesh. He felt Vic start and move back or at least try to move back, with the wall behind him he had nowhere to escape to. Then Dutch realised he wasn't the only one trembling he could feel the tiny tremors which racked Vic's body, anger or disgust or both Dutch wasn't sure. Dutch felt his hand close over Vic's penis and as gently as possible he pulled it free from Vic's underwear. His mouth felt dry and tasted of bile, sweat ran down his forehead stinging as it entered his eyes and he tried to blink it away, his body hurt a deeply entrenched throbbing agony that seemed to be getting steadily worse. He didn't think he could do this, before had been bad enough, but to do it to Vic. He knew it was useless but he couldn't stop himself,

"Please don't make me do this…please haven't you done enough…just…not this."

The man behind him crouched down hissing in his ear,

"You'll blow him now or I'll kill him and then you…last chance, your choice."

With no choice left and no time left Dutch tried to shut as much of his mind down as possible, he tried not to think, just act. He shut his eyes and leant forward, he heard the man behind him stand back up and move to the side, to get a better view he thought bitterly. Then he opened his mouth and took Vic inside. He heard a sharp intake of breath from Vic, and for a brief moment hoped that Vic wouldn't puke on him, then he realised how stupid that was he should be more worried about Vic killing him after this was over. At least Vic was clean, unlike the first man, he smelt clean, tasted clean, that last thought making Dutch's stomach roll with nausea. Too much thinking, just do don't think about what you're doing, he commanded himself, just get it over with. So he began to suck on the flaccid flesh in his mouth with no affect, accept to make Vic try to squirm away from him. He felt Vic jolt and guessed he'd been hit when he heard the second man snigger and say,

"Keep still man…just stand still and enjoy."

Then Dutch felt a wave of panic pass through him when he heard the first man say in an annoyed voice,

"Shit what's wrong with you tough guy can't you get it up or something…we haven't got all fucking night get on with it…or didn't my friend explain things to you huh?"

Dutch didn't know what that last part meant guessing that it must refer to whatever it had been that the second man had been talking to Vic about earlier, but he did realise that if he couldn't get Vic hard, if he couldn't get him to cum then he'd have to watch as Vic was murdered. Making his mind up to do what ever it took to keep Vic alive and deal with the consequences afterwards Dutch paused for a few seconds and then began to move his tongue along the underside of Vic's penis, rubbing it against the skin. Vic groaned slightly and Dutch could feel him begin to swell in his mouth, he knew that it was an automatic response to the stimulation his mouth was providing, he just hoped that Vic realised that to and wouldn't blame himself for something he couldn't control. Dutch wanted this over as quickly as possible, not only for himself but for Vic as well. So he tried to think back to the blowjobs he'd experienced in his life, he tried to think what had felt good for him and tried his best emulate that. As he sucked he began to move his head backwards and forwards flicking his tongue over the length of Vic's penis. It had the desired affect Vic was soon erect in his mouth and Dutch could hear him trying to suppress his moans, and he could feel him trying to stop himself from moving his hips and thrusting into his mouth. Dutch tried to blank everything out, he didn't want to think about what he was forcing on Vic, and he certainly didn't want to consider the sick entertainment they were providing for their captors, although he could hear them laughing, making comments on his performance and Vic's reactions.

"…see that boy's a natural…I think tough guy's in love…shit he didn't blow me that good…go on man just fuck his mouth you know you want to…"

Ignoring them and concentrating only on what he had to do Dutch began to move his mouth over Vic's erection faster trying to push him along, trying to get Vic to let go and just get the inevitable over with. He could feel it working Vic's precum sour on his tongue, the small thrusts of his hips becoming more pronounced, his breathing getting faster, more erratic. Then he heard the first gunman speaking to Vic, the smirking tone he used evident in every word,

"Open your eyes…do it! That's right now look down…look down and watch him suck you off."

Dutch knew the moment was here, he could feel Vic still and then he felt his cum flooding his mouth, not pausing to think about it he began to swallow, fighting to get each mouthful down his throat, and then it was done. He moved back gasping, trying desperately not to be sick, he could feel the vomit rise up into his throat and felt repulsed when he had to force himself to swallow it back down again. The gunmen were laughing; the first man addressed Vic again,

"Congratulations, now you're one of us!"

Although he didn't want to see Vic's face, Dutch was confused and stole a glance up at him. His breath caught when he saw Vic standing pale and shaking, his eyes shut but unable to stop the tears that trailed down his cheeks. The sight of Vic Mackey crying completely took Dutch off guard, but before he could properly process what he saw a vicious kick to his side made his world explode into a sea of pain.


	9. Trespass Chapter 9

Disclaimer: - I don't own any of the characters of The Shield, they all belong to Shawn Ryan and FX.

Trespass – Chapter 9.

Dutch heard Vic shout but was unable to discern what he said through the haze of pain he was surrounded by. A near continuous barrage of blows had swiftly followed that first kick to his side. He had tried to curl up into a ball trying to reduce his size as a target but he had been paralyzed by several tremendous kicks to his lower back, the agonizing pain radiating outwards from his kidney's took his breath away and stole his ability to move. Dutch didn't think he had any voice left inside him, he thought he'd screamed so loudly and so long over the preceding hours that his vocal cords were probably incapable of forming any sounds above a soft moan. However, he found his voice soon enough when a particularly vicious kick in his side was accompanied by a snapping sensation which for a moment stole his breath only to release it in a cry of pain brought on by his rib being broken. It was as if that cry spurred his attacker on, an already vicious beating becoming even more intense, the kicking he was receiving relentless, a second and then a third rib giving under the onslaught. For a moment all of Dutch's senses seemed to explode into crystal clarity, he was going to die he was sure, he was going to be kicked to death on his own bedroom floor, he would be found beaten to a pulp lying in a pool of his own blood and other men's semen. He felt as though his whole body was on fire, every nerve ending bright with pain, he could no longer sense where one source of torment began and another one ended. The pain from his broken and cracked ribs merged with the pain from his kidney's, which in turn merged with the pain from his rapes, which merged with the pain from his stomach when his attacker moved to his front to carry on his brutality. Then all those agonies combined with each other and his whole existence became one of suffering and suddenly the knowledge of his own demised merely became an escape route, a way of getting away from this world of hurt he was caught up in. Dutch could hear the man's harsh breathing as he tired himself out kicking him, he could hear his occasional comments as he methodically worked his way around his prone body,

"…you fucking little shit…piece of shit…fucking faggot…"

Each insult being hurled at him being punctuated with a blow, it was as if the man was trying to excise all the hate he had inside himself by kicking Dutch to death. Dutch could also hear Vic' s voice, pain filled as he shouted,

"…stop it you're killing him…Jesus we played your game you said we'd live…please don't…stop it… fucking stop it you bastard…"

It took nearly everything that Dutch had left for him to turn his head and look up at Vic. He just felt that he wanted to see him for one last time if this was going to be the end then he wanted to see one familiar face, to know he didn't die completely amongst strangers. Vic was pushed back against the wall by the second gunman, his arm across Vic's throat his gun pressed against his side. Despite this Vic was struggling, despite the fact that he could barely breathe because of the arm across his throat he was using up his precious oxygen begging for Dutch's life. Suddenly Vic looked down at him and their eyes locked Dutch was stunned at the depth of pain and regret he saw there, unable to speak Dutch tried to let Vic know that it was ok, that he accepted his own death, that Vic shouldn't waste his efforts on him but should concentrate on saving himself. He saw Vic's eyes widen and knew that Vic understood the unspoken message he had tried to communicate to him through his gaze, and he shook his head and shouted at Dutch,

"No you don't, don't you fucking dare give up… don't you let that bastard win!" 

A blow to the back of Dutch's head stunned him momentarily and he found himself no longer looking at Vic but nearly nose down on his bedroom floor. He felt dizzy, his vision graying out at the edges, he could feel his consciousness being pulled from his body and he wanted to let himself go, he wanted to escape from this place, he wanted to escape from this moment. A muffled thud managed to break through the growing haze of his mind and he felt himself grow icy cold when he saw Vic on the floor across from him. Vic lay on the floor unmoving; his eyes closed blood running down over his face from his head. God there was so much blood it looked as if Vic had washed his face in it. Dutch couldn't believe what he saw, they'd killed Vic, they must have shot him in the head after all they'd promised, after he'd played their perverted game they'd killed him anyway, everything Dutch had done, everything he'd sacrificed, everything he'd suffered had been for nothing. The unfairness of it crushed him, as he looked at Vic's still, pale face awash with his own blood Dutch felt as if someone had reached into his chest and ripped his heart out. All he could think over and over again was that it was unfair he'd played by the rules of the game and they'd cheated, pulled the rug out from under him and changed the rules at the last moment. Then Dutch couldn't see Vic's body anymore, all he could see was a slightly battered Reebok with a frayed lace as it came towards his head. As it connected with his right temple a blossom of white-hot pain grabbed at him and carried him away like a tidal wave, carried him away into the impenetrable darkness of unconsciousness. 

Authors note: - It's short but I couldn't resist the cliffhanger ending, sorry.


	10. Trespass Chapter 10

Disclaimer: - I don't own any of the characters of The Shield, they all belong to Shawn Ryan and FX.

Trespass – Chapter 10.

The house was silent and still for a while before a groan and some hesitant movements signified that it wasn't lifeless. The small moan of pain was quickly suppressed when the noise made his head explode with pain, it felt as if someone had buried an axe in his head and left it there. He tried to move but a wave of nausea convinced him that it would probably be best to lie still for a little longer. So he lay quietly trying to figure out where he was and what had happened, so far he had drawn a blank, his memory refusing to cooperate. So he concentrated on his situation, he was cold and he hurt, he was lying on something hard, not a bed so it must be the floor. He decided to see if he could open his eyes, but when he had opened them just a sliver the light caused hot pokers of agony to spike through his brain. He had to think, figure out where he was, what had happened, how had he been hurt. Everything was hazy, he could remember bits and pieces, little snap shots of time. He remembered being at work earlier, maybe that was it, maybe something had happened on the job, an arrest gone wrong or something, but no that didn't seem right, he'd left work hadn't he? Concentrate, he thought to himself and then a rush of images pushed into his mind. Men dressed in black their faces covered, guns, someone else there, someone in pain, someone being hurt, suddenly,

"Dutch." Vic called out ignoring the pain beating at his skull as the sound of his voice and the light, which filled his vision as he opened his eyes, both assaulted his senses.

Vic blinked, something was wrong with his eyes he couldn't see properly and he gingerly wiped his face in the carpet under his head swiping away the sticky liquid that covered his face and had gotten into his eyes. As he moved back and focused his clearing eyes on the patch of carpet next to his head he saw it was red, covered in blood. That accounted for the throbbing in his head, the bastard that had been holding a gun on him must have hit him with it and knocked him out, damn head wounds always bled like a pig. That thought made his mind jump back to the reason he'd been hit in the first place, Dutch, that big piece of shit had been kicking the crap outta him. Christ he'd been kicking him to death, when he'd kicked him in the back of his head and Vic had seen Dutch's eyes lose their focus he'd been afraid that Dutch was dying. When he'd seen the man grinning and pulling his foot back for another hard kick at Dutch's head Vic had lost it, shouting for him to stop and momentarily pushing free from his guard not caring about the consequences. Then nothing, the man guarding him must have smashed the butt of the gun into his head and he'd passed out.

Blinking furiously to clear his vision and his still fuzzy brain Vic finally felt his eyes begin to focus and he saw Dutch lying on the floor about six feet away from him. Vic felt fear rise up in his chest at what he saw, Dutch was so still and so pale, bruises forming an obscene black and purple patchwork across his skin, and blood there was an awful lot of blood spattered over him and on the floor around him. While he gathered himself to move Vic stared at Dutch's body trying to detect some movement, something to reassure him that there was still a spark of life inside that battered frame. He couldn't see anything and panic spurred him on to suppress his own physical needs, and get to Dutch and get help. Fireworks exploded in his head as Vic slowly pulled himself upright and the need to vomit couldn't be ignored anymore. Turning his head to the side he emptied his stomach over the floor next to where he sat, each contraction of his stomach muscles shooting a sharp lance of pain through his still throbbing head. It wasn't the first time that night that Vic had wanted to puke his guts up, it was just the first time he hadn't been able to repress the urge. When he finally stopped urging he panted for a moment, centering himself, gathering his strength to do what had to be done. Dutch was depending on him and Vic was determined not to let him down this time.

First things first Vic needed to get his hands free, they were still tied behind his back by some kind of thin rope. Although his wrists had hurt before where the rope had cut into his skin as he'd tried to twist his hands free, his hands were both pretty numb now. He knew that he wouldn't be able to work his hands free, what he needed was something to cut the rope away. As his eyes flitted around the room Vic saw a glass of water on the bedside cabinet which would have to do. Vic pulled himself up onto his knees and wincing stood a little unsteadily, he had to swallow down another round of nausea as his head began to spin. Waiting for a moment until the unpleasant sensation passed Vic made his way over to the cabinet and turning he reached out with his fingers trying to grasp the glass. It didn't help that the numbness in his fingers meant he could barely feel what he was doing, but he took it slowly and was successful. Now he just had to smash the glass and use a shard to cut through he rope. It took three attempts to finally break the glass on the side of the wooden cabinet, and then Vic turned to look at the pieces spotting one that would be appropriate for what he wanted. He grasped the shard between his fingers and began to use it to saw through the thin rope that bound his hands. Now Vic was thankful that he had lost a lot of the feeling in his fingers when he felt the sharp edged glass slicing into them as he manipulated it. It seemed to take hours to Vic for the glass to do its job, as he sawed away at the rope his eyes never left Dutch's still form. He tried calling Dutch's name a few times but got no response, although he was relieved when he detected a slight rise and fall in Dutch's back signifying the fact that he was still breathing, he was still alive. Finally Vic felt the rope give and with a cry he dropped the glass, and brought his arms around to his front as his shoulder muscles screamed in protest at the change of position. However, Vic ignored the protests of his own body as he stumbled over to Dutch, afraid of what he'd find when he got close up to the damage that had been inflicted on the other man.


	11. Trespass Chapter 11

Disclaimer: - I don't own any of the characters of The Shield, they all belong to Shawn Ryan and FX.

Trespass – Chapter 11.

Vic slowly and carefully knelt down next to Dutch, he began to reach forward towards him but stopped, Dutch looked fragile as if one touch and he might shatter. Taking a breath Vic blew it out and he reached out slowly, surprised at how much his hand was shaking, as gently as he could he let two fingers rest lightly on Dutch's neck checking his pulse. At first he felt nothing but after making himself press down harder he was rewarded by a quick, thready beat which fluttered and faltered slightly against his finger tips. Withdrawing his hand Vic hesitated not entirely sure what to do now, on one hand he wanted to roll Dutch over, get a better look at him, but he also knew that it was probably a bad idea to move him, the injuries he could see were bad enough God knows what internal damage there might be. Dutch was covered in bruises and Vic felt anger welling up inside him when he saw that some even carried the marks from the sole of that sadistic piece of shit's shoe. Dutch's body was also covered in lacerations and again some of the abrasions were curved in the shape of a shoe where a glancing kick had literally scuffed off a layer of flesh. Vic could see blood in Dutch's hair which must be from a head wound caused when he'd been kicked in the head, it was sticky and matted together the hair behind Dutch's right temple. Vic knew he had to get help but he was reluctant to leave Dutch by himself even for a moment. Dutch had had to face enough by himself tonight, enough pain and ugliness and Vic wanted him to know he wasn't alone anymore. He reached out and took one of Dutch's hands in his, Vic shivered at the cold he found there, and without thinking he took Dutch's hand in both of his and tried to rub some heat back into it. Looking around he saw that the phone had been ripped from the wall, the two men must have done that before they'd left because Vic couldn't remember seeing that damage before. That meant Vic had to get to his mobile and his gun he thought suddenly gripped by the fear that the two men might not of left the house. Vic strained to listen to the unfamiliar noises of the house, trying to detect any movement that might indicate that their attackers were still there. All seemed peaceful and quiet but he had to be sure, he glanced around the room but there was no indication of where Dutch might keep his gun. Vic didn't even know if it was up here or downstairs somewhere, when they'd first gotten to the house he simply hadn't paid attention to that. However, there was no mystery to where his gun was, assuming the intruders hadn't ransacked his room it would be in the dresser drawer right where he'd left it along with his phone. He squeezed Dutch's hand and leant down towards him,

"I'll be right back Dutch, I'm just going to get help and then I'll be back." Vic promised.

Pausing he looked for something to cover Dutch with, he was icy cold, probably in shock Vic knew and he needed to be warm. He glanced at the bed, shuddering at the physical evidence that had been left there by the horrific events of the preceding hours. Not only did he not want to cover Dutch in the blood and semen stained bedding, but the policeman in him couldn't bring himself to disturb the forensic evidence there that might help to track down those two monsters, and Vic wanted to make sure they were hunted down. He saw a wooden chest at the foot of the bed and went over to it and as he'd guessed he found spare sheets and a couple of blankets inside. Quickly Vic pulled out a blanket and draped it over the motionless figure on the floor,

"I won't be long." He said, and then as stealthily as he could he moved to the door.

Vic cautiously pulled the door open and peered out onto the landing, the lights were on and he still couldn't hear anything. Keeping back by the wall and moving as quickly as he could he went to the guestroom and pushed the door open while looking down the stairs to the hallway below. Ducking inside the dark room Vic had no difficulty in finding his weapon and phone. He continued to watch the quiet lower floor of the house while he dialed 911. After a couple of rings a crisp female voice answered,

"911…"

Vic immediately interrupted,

"I'm Detective Vic Mackey Farmington Division, I've got an officer down at…" He had to pause for a second his mind panicking trying to remember Dutch's address.

"Detective did you say an officer down? Please give me a location so I can dispatch units to assist."

"Yeah, yeah…" Vic stumbled then triumphantly he said, "1310 Hoover Street…we're at 1310 Hoover Street. I've got an officer down I need an ambulance and backup, there were two perps both armed and dangerous…be sure to advise the police units that there's an armed police officer already on scene."

"Understood detective and will do, police and rescue units are on the way to your location. Do you need to stay on the line?"

"No…I'm checking the scene be sure to advise the police units I'm here." Not waiting for her affirmative Vic snapped the phone shut and moved downstairs. A quick check of the ground floor reveled that the two men were long gone, a broken pane of glass in the back door showing how they'd gained entrance to the house. Vic only lingered long enough to open the front door for the police and ambulance personnel, wanting to get back to Dutch, he'd promised him he wouldn't leave him alone for long. He darted into his room and grabbed his trousers and shoes before he returned to Dutch's bedroom. Dutch hadn't moved, but he was still breathing, still hanging on. Vic heard sirens and hoped it was the ambulance, but looking out of the window he saw only a police cruiser pulling to a halt outside the house. A moment later a shout,

"Police officers in the house!"

Vic moved to the landing holding out his badge that had been in his trouser pocket,

"I'm a police officer!" He called out.

The two officers by the front door turned their guns towards him relaxing and lowering them slightly when they saw his badge. 

"You called in an officer down?" One of them asked.

"Yeah there were two perps they broke in both armed, they beat him up pretty badly, where's that ambulance." Vic replied skirting around the events of the night, only telling them what they needed to know.

"It's on it's way," As if to underline the officer's words the wail of a siren could be heard in the distance. "Have you checked the area, could they still be on scene?" The policeman asked, nervously peering down the hallway towards the kitchen door.

"I've checked in here and it's clear, but I've not been outside…look I need to get back in here." Vic told them, indicating the bedroom behind him.

"Sure, um are you alright that's a lot of blood on your shirt?" 

"Yeah I'm fine just make sure you send the paramedics straight up." Vic said turning away. He'd been out here long enough and was anxious to get back to check on Dutch.


	12. Trespass Chapter 12

Disclaimer: - I don't own any of the characters of The Shield, they all belong to Shawn Ryan and FX.

Trespass – Chapter 12.

When he returned to the silent bedroom Vic had found nothing had changed, Dutch was still unconscious but holding his own. He sank down to the floor next to Dutch and reached out again taking one of his cold hands in his own,

"It's only me," He whispered to the silent man. "Told you I wouldn't be gone for long. Just hold on a little while long Dutchboy the paramedics are nearly here, it won't be long."

Vic closed his eyes his head throbbing and he felt the energy beginning to drain from him. He snapped his eyes back open, he could rest later right now Dutch needed him awake and as alert as possible and he wasn't going to let him down, no he'd done enough of that for one night. He'd let him down and abandoned him to face the demons on his own, but no more he would be there for him, Vic was determined to get him through the days and weeks ahead. He looked down at Dutch's bruised face frowning at his pallor, the pale whiteness of earlier beginning to be tinged with a subtle shade of grey. That was not a good sign Vic knew and he glanced at the door willing the paramedics to hurry up. As if on command he heard the sound of footsteps hurrying up the stairs, equipment bumping into the walls in their hurry on the way up. One of the policemen from the hallway burst through the door then followed by two paramedics. Vic pulled himself upright slowly rising to his feet as the paramedics rushed over to them,

"Quick I think he's hurt really badly." He told them indicating Dutch.

While one knelt down next to Dutch pulling the blanket from his body and beginning to examining him the other paramedic was trying to shine a light into Vic's eyes.

"Sir…sir can you look at the light please," He was saying to Vic. "Can you tell me were you unconscious…sir were you unconscious."

Vic turned towards him tearing his eyes away from the other paramedic and Dutch,

"What?" He asked the man.

"Did you lose consciousness from the blow to your head." The paramedic asked again this time speaking slowly still shining that annoying penlight in Vic's eyes.

"Maybe for a couple of minutes…but I'm fine. It's him you should be looking after... I'm alright." Vic told him jerking his head away from the annoying light.

"My partner is assessing your friend sir, but you've been hurt to and I need to assess your condition."

"I'm fine a bit of a headache is all. Now stop fussing about with me and help Dutch." Vic tried to keep the irritation from his voice, but knew he didn't succeed when he saw the other man back up a little from him and look towards his partner. The paramedic by Dutch glanced up at them and after quickly assessing Vic with his eyes said to his partner,

"It's ok I could do with some help here." The older paramedic who had been examining Dutch told his younger partner.

Then he proceeded to launch into an assessment of Dutch's condition that scared the crap out of Vic,

"Set up a couple of large bore IV's before we lose his veins," He told his partner who scrabbled through one of the equipment bags they'd brought with them so he could do as he'd been instructed. "We need to start getting fluids into him. It looks like hypovolaemic shock; he's hypotensive, tachycardic and hypothermic. We've got multiple rib fractures so possible spleen injury."

While the younger paramedic began inserting what seemed to Vic to be huge needles into Dutch the other one lifted his eyelids and shone one of those annoying lights into his eyes, his mouth tightening slightly at what he found.

"Left pupil reactive, right pupil dilated and sluggish. Head injury probable concussion possible skull fracture. Let's get a mask on with 100% oxygen, put on the neck collar and fetch the backboard out of the rig."

Vic watched as their hands moved quickly and efficiently over Dutch, he was ignoring the policeman who hovered by his elbow trying to get his attention. When the younger paramedic hurried out to get the backboard the older paramedic looked up at Vic and asked,

"Can you tell me what happened sir?"

Vic took a breath and knew that he had to tell them everything or nearly everything, they didn't need all the details, but what he had to say would be enough. He could sense the policeman by him poised to take down what he said to start the investigation rolling. He licked his lips and focused on Dutch,

"We were asleep and a couple of armed men broke into the house. They hit us around a little then…then…they ah…they took it in turns to rape Dutch and then one of them kicked him and just wouldn't stop…I thought he was going to kill him." He stopped squeezing his eyes tightly closed for a moment the silence enveloped the room until it was broken by the paramedic gently asking,

"And your head wound?"

"One of them must have hit me with a gun, knocked me out for a couple of minutes, but I'm fine." He added hastily.

"You'll have to come with us to the hospital though sir to be checked out, ok?" The man told him.

"Sure," Vic told him. "But just look after Dutch. He's…he's been through enough."

"Of course." The paramedic smiled at Vic and then turned towards the door as his partner re-entered the room. "Good let's get on with this. I want to be at the hospital in 15."

As they got to work carefully moving Dutch Vic couldn't ignore the hovering cop any longer.

"Just a few questions detective…?"

"Mackey." Vic supplied.

"Yeah, detective Mackey, and this is?" He asked, waving his pen in Dutch's direction.

"Detective Wagenbach, Farmington Division."

"Right and you two, what live together or something?" The policeman asked, his tone slightly mocking.

Vic glanced at him sharply seeing what was being implied. Knowing the attitude being expressed, he'd seen similar prejudice expressed a hundred times in this job. If he didn't nip this in the bud him and Dutch would just be a couple of faggot cops who got what they deserved, and hey maybe they enjoyed it perverts. He stepped in as close to the smirking cop as he could, his face just inches from his,

"Not that it's any of your business, but Dutch is a friend of mine from work and he was doing me a favour by letting me use his spare room for a few days ok!"

"Yeah sure detective," The cop said the cockiness gone from his tone. "Hey I'm sorry I didn't mean to imply anything, I was just trying to get the facts straight you know."

"Yeah right. Well you make sure you get them right then because I don't want to have to continue this conversation with you at a later date…do I make myself clear?" Vic snarled at him.

"Yeah…crystal clear."

"Good…Dutch is a damn good cop and he sacrificed himself to save my life. You write that down in your fucking note book!" Vic said turning away from him.

"We need to move now." The older paramedic told Vic. "You'll be coming along with us."

"Ok." Vic said heading out of the room in front of them as he had one thing he wanted to get before they left.

Once downstairs he quickly ducked into the kitchen and picked up Dutch's mobile phone from the counter slipping it into his pocket as he hurried outside to catch up with the paramedics who were loading Dutch into their ambulance. The second cop was there, his partner staying in the house and out of Mackey's way.

"Can you get hold of Captain Aceveda, Farmington Division and let him know what's happened?" Vic asked him, not wanting to speak to Aceveda yet.

"Of course," The cop assured him. "What hospital should I tell him?" He called to the paramedics.

The younger paramedic paused as he made his way to the driver's side of the ambulance,

"Trauma centre at King/Drew Medical Centre." He replied.

"Detective Mackey!" The other paramedic called out to him as he leaned forward waiting for Vic to get in before he closed the back doors.

As Vic climbed in he saw another black and white arrive at the scene as well as a couple of Westwood detectives and a CSI unit. The cop he'd just spoken to strolled across to the detectives, and as the door finally slammed shut and the ambulance pulled away with it's lights flashing and it's siren wailing, he saw him begin to fill them in on what had happened.


	13. Trespass Chapter 13

Disclaimer: - I don't own any of the characters of The Shield, they all belong to Shawn Ryan and FX.

Trespass – Chapter 13.

Vic sat back in the ambulance making sure to stay out of the paramedic's way as he monitored Dutch's condition, his attention entirely focused on his patient. Vic slipped Dutch's mobile phone out of his pocket and opened it up. He had a hunch and pressed number one on speed dial and after a half dozen rings was rewarded by hearing Claudette's sleepy and slightly annoyed voice,

"It's 4:30 in the morning Dutch this had better be good?"

Realizing Claudette must have caller ID Vic winced slightly as he said,

"Um Claudette it's Vic."

Her voice was instantly alert,

"Vic what the hell are you doing with Dutch's phone and what's that noise?" She asked referring to the ambulance's siren that she could hear in the background. "Where's Dutch…what's wrong?"

Vic could hear the steadily growing alarm in her voice and not wanting to go into any details with her over the phone kept his reply as short and to the point as possible,

"There's been an incident Claudette…a break-in at Dutch's house. He's been hurt and we're on our way to the hospital, it's the King/Drew Medical Centre on South Wilmington."

Vic could hear Claudette moving around no doubt grabbing clothes in preparation to join them at the hospital,

"What do you mean hurt…how was he hurt, how bad is it?" The worry she felt evident with every word.

At that moment the younger paramedic who was driving called back to his partner,

"Another 3 minutes!"

Vic seized upon their imminent arrival at the hospital as an excuse to curtail his conversation with Claudette,

"Look Claudette were at the hospital I can't talk anymore, just get down here ok…Dutch needs you here." 

He snapped the phone shut cutting off any reply before she could make it. Switching the phone off he returned it to his pocket and reaching into his other pocket he pulled out his own phone. However, before he could use it he was jolted in his seat by the ambulance coming to a sharp stop at the doors to the trauma centre. As the paramedic with Dutch began preparing him quickly to be moved his partner threw open the back doors and they smoothly removed him from the ambulance and began to hurry towards the hospital entrance. The older paramedic looked back at Vic who was standing by the ambulance, phone in hand, not moving,

"You need to come in as well detective!" He called.

"Yeah, I have to make a call then I'm there." Vic assured him.

As they passed into the hospital and several nurses and doctors descended on them the paramedic transferred his attention to them as he began to rapidly inform them of Dutch's condition. As the automatic doors slid shut Vic turned and walked away several feet ensuring he was alone and opening his phone called Shane. It was obvious that he'd woken Shane up,

"Yeah…" He grunted.

"Shane it's Vic." 

When he heard those words Vic could hear Shane pulling himself together knowing Vic wouldn't be calling him without a damn good reason.

"Hey Vic what is it man?"

"Shane didn't you say once that you had a buddy…a detective who worked out of Westwood?" Vic asked.

"Um yeah…Tom Merton. I've been friends with him for a couple of years, why?" Shane's voice sounded puzzled.

"Something happened tonight at Dutch's house…a couple of armed men broke in, they beat Dutch up pretty badly…" Vic said before Shane interrupted.

"Shit you're joking, what about you man…are you alright?"

"Yeah Shane I'm fine a bang to the head that's all, but listen this goes no further than you and the guy's ok…Christ knows it'll be all over the city by tonight, but for now I want you to keep this quiet alright?" 

"Of course… you can trust me, but what's got to be kept quiet?" Shane asked, confused.

"These two perps were a pair of fucking perverts. They tied me up and put a gun to my head Shane and threatened to kill me if Dutch tried to fight them off..." Vic had to pause, gather himself before he carried on.

"I don't understand…Vic what happened?" Concern colouring Shane's tone.

"They raped him Shane… they put a gun to my head, threatened to kill me and then they took turns raping him, and the bastards made me watch." As he spoke the words Vic sagged back against the wall of the hospital, a heavy shroud of sadness and guilt enveloping him. There were several moments of disbelieving silence from the other end of the phone as Shane tried to fully process what Vic had told him,

"Jesus Vic…I don't…Christ is Dutch all right…I mean…I mean I know he's not all right but…" Shane's voice petered out, at a loss as what to say.

"We're at the hospital, he's unconscious I don't know how bad he is yet, but Shane I want these two pricks. Do you understand me these two are mine?!" Vic growled, pushing down the sadness and guilt and replacing it with anger.

"Yeah of course boss, what do you want done?" Shane asked.

"Westwood will be investigating so contact your buddy get an inside track on the investigation. I want to know everything they know, when they know it. Is that gonna be a problem?"

"No, no problem Tom owes me and he's a stand up guy…it'll be good." Shane promised.

"Good," Vic replied. "I want you to call Lem and Ronnie tell them what's happened and then the three of you get out on the street and call in every fucking marker we've got. I want every piece of shit that owes us working for us. Any whispers or rumors about what happened I want to know. If these two shitheads are talking to anyone about what they did I want to know."

"You got it." Shane assured Vic.

"Look I gotta go Shane, Aceveda's gonna be here soon and he's gonna want my statement, but I'm trusting you with this ok?" Vic emphasised.

"I know Vic I know I'm on it…no problem."

"Good cause I want to get to these two before anyone else." Vic told Shane, his tone cold. This was Vic Mackey at his most dangerous.

"Understood." Shane replied before Vic finished the call and walked into the hospital.


	14. Trespass Chapter 14

Disclaimer: - I don't own any of the characters of The Shield, they all belong to Shawn Ryan and FX.

Trespass – Chapter 14.

As he entered the hospital Vic paused for a moment to get his bearings. To his left was a waiting room with a few people in there sitting on the plastic chairs. They were dotted about the room no one wanting to sit too close to anyone else. Apart from the occasional barking cough from a homeless man who sat in the corner no one spoke or looked at anyone else. In front of him was the admitting desk and wanting to know what was going on with Dutch Vic turned towards it and made his way over. He was nearly there when he felt a hand on his arm,

"Has anyone looked at your head detective?" A concerned voice asked.

Turning Vic recognised the older paramedic who had brought him and Dutch to the hospital. His partner was standing, a little impatiently behind him, waiting to get back to their ambulance and back out on duty.

"Um, no not yet I just wanted to find out how my friend is…do you know?" Vic asked.

"The doctors are with him now, they're doing everything they can. I think we need to get that head wound you've got checked out though detective. I think it might need a couple of stitches, ok?" The paramedic explained to Vic while trying to catch the eye of the nurse behind the admitting desk.

"Jenny could you get someone to look at Detective Mackey's head wound?" He called to her.

The nurse came out from behind the desk and approached them,

"Of course," She said, a reassuring professional smile adorning her face. "If we go into a treatment room I'll help you clean up a little detective, and get a doctor to take a look."

"Thanks Jen." The paramedic said stepping away from Vic and the nurse.

As he went to follow his partner out to the ambulance he paused and turned back to Vic,

"The docs here are the best…they'll look after your friend."

Vic watched him leave feeling that wave of exhaustion he'd felt earlier at Dutch's house rising up again.

"If you'll follow me." The nurse asked him, indicating a small room near by.

Wearily Vic followed her and sat on the bed.

"I'll just page a doctor to come and examine you then I'll clean some of that blood off." The nurse told him while reaching for the phone.

Ten minutes later the nurse had left to find him a scrub top he could wear instead of his blood soaked tee shirt and a doctor was shining one of those damn lights into his eyes again. 

"Could you follow the light please." The doctor asked, while he moved the light from side to side.

As patiently as he could Vic followed the light and squeezed the doctors hands when asked to, and answered his questions about headaches and nausea.

"A mild concussion," Was the doctor's verdict. "And I'll put a couple of stitches into the head wound for you." He offered.

"Can you find out about the other man…the other detective who was brought in?" Vic asked, anxious to know how Dutch was.

"They're working on him," The doctor told him. "When they know anything they'll come and find you to let you know. Now this might sting." He said as he injected a local anesthetic near Vic's injury.

The doctor was just applying a small dressing to Vic's head when the door to the room opened and Captain Aceveda entered accompanied by two men Vic didn't recognise. Vic guessed they were detectives from Westwood who'd want to take his statement. His suspicions were confirmed when Aceveda introduced them,

"Detective Gregory, Detective Lehane… Detective Vic Mackey. They want a statement Vic about what the hell happened tonight. Where's Dutch…how is he do you know?"

Ignoring the two Westwood detectives for the moment Vic turned to Aceveda,

"I don't know they won't tell me anything. They just say they're working on him and they'll come tell me when they're finished." He informed Aceveda, adding sadly, "But it looked bad."

Just then the door opened once more as the nurse returned with the promised scrub top for Vic to wear. Vic took it from her with a nod of thanks and as she and the doctor left they all heard Claudette's stressed and annoyed voice coming from outside,

"Detective Wagenbach…I was told he was brought here, he's my partner and I want to know how he is, what's wrong with him!"

Raising a questioning eyebrow Aceveda looked at Vic,

"She's his partner, his friend she should be here…he's gonna need her." Vic said by way of explanation.

Turning away Aceveda sighed and called her over,

"Captain," She acknowledged him, her gaze skipping over the other two men before it zeroed in on Vic. "Do you mind telling me what the bloody hell has happened to Dutch!"

Before Vic could speak one of the detectives, Vic thought it was Lehane, stepped forward trying to take charge of the situation,

"That's what we'd all like to know Detective Mackey. You reported a home invasion and serious assault…"

Lehane found himself interrupted then as the door once more opened to reveal an unfamiliar doctor,

"Are you all here for Detective Wagenbach?" She asked.

"Yes, how is he?" Vic asked eagerly coming forward, desperate for news about Dutch's condition.

"Well, I'm Doctor Horowitz and I worked on Detective Wagenbach. He was brought into the ER suffering from haemorrhagic shock caused by severe intraperitoneal haemorrhage." Seeing the confused expressions around her the doctor decided to dumb down a little. It was easy sometimes to forget that not everyone talked in medical terminology. "Severe internal bleeding. We carried out an ultrasound examination and found he was suffering from a grade 3 injury to his spleen and then redlined him to the OR for a splenectomy."

Detective Gregory interrupted at this point, which earned him a look of pure poison from Claudette.

"A what?"

" His spleen will be removed to stop the bleeding." Doctor Horowitz explained, before plunging on with the rest of Dutch's injuries. "He also has three broken ribs and a head injury which is causing some concern. He will be given a head CT as soon as is possible to determine the severity of the injury. While in the OR the surgeon's will further assess the damage caused by the sexual assault." 

She paused when she heard the sharp intake of breath from Claudette at this last statement, and mentally kicked herself for not breaking this news a little more gently. Softening her tone a little she carried on,

"The ultrasound didn't show any perforation of the bowel, but there is severe tearing and bruising to the rectum and anus which will require stitches. Due to the severity of the damage the surgeon's will probably give Detective Wagenbach a temporary colostomy to reduce the risk of infection and aid the healing process. We carried out a full rape-kit before he was taken up to the OR so if you'd like to have an officer collect it. Um, that's all I can tell you I'm afraid except that Detective Wagenbach was holding his own when he was taken up to the OR. I'll send someone in to take you up to the surgical waiting room." With that Doctor Horowitz escaped from the room with its oppressive atmosphere of shock and sadness.

For several long moments no one spoke until a shaken Claudette turned to Vic, her eyes silently begging him to deny her next statement,

"Raped…he was raped?"

Vic felt a huge wave of shame crash over him, not only had he failed Dutch but he'd failed Claudette too, he hadn't protected her partner. Unable to meet her eye he dropped his gaze to the floor,

"I'm sorry Claudette." Was all he could say.

A soft knock on the door was followed by Jenny, the nurse who had helped Vic earlier, entering and saying,

"Doctor Horowitz asked me to take you up to the surgical waiting room." 

Aceveda looked shaken himself when he turned to Vic and said,

"We'll take your statement when we get up there."


	15. Trespass Chapter 15

Disclaimer: - I don't own any of the characters of The Shield, they all belong to Shawn Ryan and FX.

Trespass – Chapter 15.

The surgical waiting room was quite a contrast when compared to the ER waiting room three floors below. The walls were painted in soothing pastel shades with comfortable chairs and even a coffee machine. The quiet group were the only ones in the room at the moment. The door snapped shut behind Jenny as she left them after explaining that a surgeon would be in to talk to them when Dutch's operation was over. She had seemed eager to leave the oppressive atmosphere behind her. 

Vic dropped into a chair with a tired sigh. He sat with his arms on his knees, his head bowed, staring at the floor. He didn't want to face the other people in that room. The two Westwood detectives with their questioning, professional expressions, Aceveda his face saddened by the news of what had happened to Dutch, but also with a hint of suspicion in it when he looked at Vic. Vic knew that Aceveda was already convinced that the whole thing was his fault, convinced that Dutch had somehow been caught in the crossfire, an innocent victim of some form of retribution that had been aimed at Vic. Of course right now Vic didn't give a shit what Aceveda thought or what those two dicks from Westwood thought either, there was only one person in that room that Vic felt he owed anything to. Claudette's eyes hadn't left him since the doctor's words had stated so clinically the horror of what had happened to Dutch. He had felt her gaze on him all the time during that quiet, strained lift ride up to the third floor. He could feel it boring into the top of his bowed head now. However, he hadn't been able to meet her gaze since he'd dropped his eyes and apologised to her for not protecting her partner. He felt her move to stand in front of him and he readied himself as best he could for what would follow,

"What the hell happened Vic…that doctor, she was wrong right…I mean…I mean not Dutch, Vic tell me…not Dutch?" Her voice sounded different to Vic not like the self-assured, confident Claudette he was used to hearing.

"I'm sorry Claudette I wish…" Vic mumbled out a repeat of his previous apology.

"No, you look at me God damn it Vic, you look at me and tell me what happened. You explain to me how this could happen!" Claudette's voice cracked a little at the last, emotion threatening to overwhelm her, and Vic winced in sympathy.

Knowing Claudette wanted to see his face, his eyes as he told her what had been done to Dutch, knowing that she needed to see them, he wearily raised his head and met her gaze. He felt a huge wave of sadness well up inside him at the confusion, fear and pain that he saw when he finally met her eyes. He felt an urge to explain to her, try to make her realise that if could have helped Dutch he would of, if he'd been able to stop those animals from touching him, from hurting him so badly then he would of.

"There wasn't anything I could do Claudette. Christ don't you think if I could of stopped them I would of. They…they were armed, they took us by surprise. They tied my hands behind my back and they wanted to play this game…this sick fucking game. Shit…bastards fucking sick evil bastards!" The words tumbled out of his mouth in a rush taking everyone by surprise, their tone anguished.

Claudette moved back away from Vic, taking a deep steadying breath.

"Alright we all need to calm down." Aceveda said trying to take charge of the situation. "We're all shocked and upset but Detectives Gregory and Lehane need this statement Vic if they're going to move forward in their investigation. Now we all want these perps to be caught as soon as possible so I suggest we all sit down and let's try to get this statement finished as quickly as we can."

Vic nodded wearily knowing that this was unavoidable. That everything was going to have to be told, everything was going to have to be confessed. He needed to get this over with so that he would be free to check in with Shane. He would need to feel the burn of revenge after he had re-lived the events of the past night. After everyone sat down Vic was aware of all the eyes in the room being solely focused on him. He steeled himself for what was to come and cleared his throat as he began,

"I was staying at Dutch's house…um Detective Wagenbach's house," He said flicking his gaze at Lehane who was writing his words down in his notebook.

Lehane nodded his understanding back at him and Vic continued,

"Anyway the place I'm staying at has a roach problem so it's getting fumigated and Dutch offered to let me stay at his place for a few days, because he's got a spare room. Everything was fine, nothing out of the ordinary, nothing suspicious and we just went to bed. About an hour or so later, around one thirty or so," Vic corrected himself trying to be as accurate as possible.

The police officer in him trying to stick with procedure, trying to find an anchor in the familiar routine of his job. Something that might distance himself from the events he was going to have to relay,

"I was asleep when the light went on in the room and there was this guy standing there pointing a gun at me, a Baretta I think. He was dressed all in black, a black sweater, black jeans and a black ski mask covering his face. He was about five foot ten tall, about 180 lbs., he was Caucasian, sounded like a local too." Vic paused remembering the shock he'd felt when he'd awoken to be confronted by the armed intruder.

However, Vic didn't want the emotion, he didn't want to feel the emotional turmoil that that night's events had set off within him. If he could just stick to the facts and nothing but the facts maybe he could sublimate the feelings and ignore them. So clearing his mind he pressed on,

"He told me to get up and not to try anything else he'd kill me. I thought about my gun but it was in a drawer, out of my reach so I decided it would be best to go along with him for now. I hoped I might get a chance to do something later on. I thought…I thought they'd just come to rob the house…I didn't know…Well anyway he pushed me down the landing to Dutch's room and there was another guy already in there with a gun on Dutch, a Glock, definitely a Glock. Dutch was still in bed so I guess he'd been woken up just as I had. This second man was taller and bigger built, about six two and 190lbs. He was dressed all in black too, sweater, trousers and ski mask. Also Caucasian, but his voice was different…Southern…maybe Georgia…yeah I'd say Georgia. Looked to me like he was the boss too." 

"Why do you think that?" Lehane asked, poised to write down Vic's answer.

"Just a feeling you know…he seemed to be the one giving the orders plus…"

"Plus what?" Lehane wanted to know when Vic didn't finish his sentence.

"Nothing…nothing." Vic told him.

Vic hadn't wanted to finish what he'd been going to say. He hadn't wanted to tell them that the big guy had seemed to be the leader of the two men because he'd gone first, he'd raped Dutch first. Trying to regain his equilibrium Vic continued,

"Anyway Dutch must have thought the same as me…that this was a robbery because he did all the right things you know. He told them where his wallet and car keys were and where anything else they might want to take was. He kept calm, he did everything right, everything you're supposed to do." Vic looked at Claudette when he said this, but quickly looked away when he saw the cold expression on her face.

Her shock giving way to fury, a fury she hadn't yet decided if it should be directed at him. Continuing with his narrative Vic picked a spot on the far wall, a faded stain, and focused on that as he began to speak,

"The guy by Dutch, the leader he says that they don't want any of those things, that we'll find out what they want soon. Dutch didn't understand what he meant, neither did I and Dutch he looked over at me, and he was confused… I could see he was confused."

That was it, remembering the confused look on Dutch's face when he'd looked at Vic, confusion which had turned into concern at how the events were going to unfold, was enough to scupper Vic plans to block out the emotion. He couldn't help himself as he began to relay the events he'd experienced it was as if he was back there in that room, watching everything, powerless to help, powerless to change things.


	16. Trespass Chapter 16

Disclaimer: - I don't own any of the characters of The Shield, they all belong to Shawn Ryan and FX.

Trespass - Chapter 16.

Vic didn't like feeling powerless; he liked, needed to be in control. The gun pressed into his side was an uncomfortable reminder that this was a situation where he didn't have the slightest bit of control. He'd watched as Dutch had been made to stand facing the wall and tried to figure out what was going on, if he could get an idea of what these two wanted then maybe he could use that to his advantage. When he was told to put his hands behind his back Vic knew he was going to be tied up, was this his moment, should he make his move? A punch to his side momentarily doubled him over in pain and he saw Dutch try to turn his head to see what had happened. Vic felt a sharp spike of fear go through him when he saw the gunman by Dutch jab his gun into the side of his head telling him to keep facing the wall. He realised that it wasn't just his life he had to consider, if an attempt to overpower the gunman by him went badly it could be Dutch who would pay with his life, and Vic knew he couldn't face that so for the time being he would have to cooperate.

The mention of "the game" had Vic puzzled and worried, he wasn't sure why but it was setting off every internal alarm he had. Vic had long ago learnt to trust his internal alarm system, an instinctive trouble sensor; it had saved his life a couple of times in the past. This wasn't going to be good; there was something about these two that made him distinctly uncomfortable. He had seen them exchange wordless glances, knowing smirks that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Vic winced as the gunman who was tying his hands behind him pulled the cord tight and he felt it cut into the flesh of his wrists. He watched as Dutch was allowed to turn around and frowned at the realisation that while he'd been tied Dutch hadn't. There was that bad feeling again, a bad feeling that was entirely focused on Dutch. It was going to be bad and he just knew that Dutch was going to get the brunt of it. Dutch was looking intently at him inspecting him for any injury, and he could see the genuine relief on his face when he found none. There was a moments silence and Vic wanted to get the gunman's focus onto himself if he could get them talking, make them see that they should take what they want and leave, perhaps Dutch could be spared whatever it was they had in mind for him.

However, the gunman by Dutch just continued in that smug, mocking tone assuring Vic that they didn't want money or videos. He felt his guts clench in apprehension at the laughter of the man next to him when he urged his friend to explain what was going to happen to them. He instinctively knew it was going to be awful but even Vic was unprepared for what he heard. His mind could process the fact that they were robbers, he could even handle the thought that they might be some kind of thrill killers, but rapists! The idea that this whole thing was motivated by sex and power games set his mind into a confused whirl. Then Vic felt anger surge up within him at the thought that he was going to be used as a pawn in their sick game. He was going to be used to gain Dutch's cooperation in his own rape. No, he couldn't just stand there and let this happen, he shouted,

"Fuck you you prick!"

The gunman's smug reply of,

"No actually it's fuck him."

While indicating a frozen Dutch had enraged Vic even further. He wanted to charge across the room at that smug bastard, even with his hands tied behind his back he wanted to do something. Suddenly the gun was removed from his side and shoved viciously under his chin pushing his head up at an uncomfortable angle. Vic knew he was trapped and getting himself killed in some useless gesture wasn't going to help Dutch, all it would do was leave Dutch alone to face what ever was going to happen to him and maybe it would even get him killed too. If he bided his time maybe Vic would get a chance to act later, he would have to try and stay calm and watch for an opening.

When the gunman by Dutch ordered him to strip Dutch looked over at him and Vic can see the growing panic in his eyes as well as disbelief and indecision. Vic wanted to say something to him something reassuring, something to make this easier for him but he knew that there was nothing that could do that so he just kept quiet, his inability to do anything to help Dutch making him feel completely impotent and useless. Dutch's eyes were wide with shock at the gunman's words and the colour was rapidly draining from his face as the enormity of the situation dawned on him, and then Vic was flooded with relief. He was relieved that it was Dutch standing there exposed and alone and not him. Immediately the relief was followed by an almost crushing sense of guilt that he could be so selfish, but still that feeling of relief lurked in the background and refused to go away. When Dutch asked in a faltering voice for the gunman to remove the gun from Vic's head afraid that it might go off accidentally Vic felt even worse. Here's Dutch with this awful threat hanging over him and his first thought is for Vic's safety and all Vic can think is thank, Christ it's him and not me!

When the gunman by Dutch warns his friend to watch Vic because he doesn't trust him not to try and be a hero Vic almost laughs himself at the ridiculousness of that thought. Being a hero is the last thing he feels like as he just stands there and does nothing while Dutch has to face the trauma of these events alone. Vic watches as Dutch reddens with embarrassment as he's forced to undress. The gunman by Vic is sniggering at Dutch's growing distress while the one nearest to him just continues to watch him with that self-satisfied smirk obviously enjoying every moment of Dutch's discomfort. Vic pulls on the cord around his wrists, what he wouldn't give to be able to free his hands and get hold of these two sadists.

Vic cracks when the gunman by Dutch tells him to put his hands on his head so he can get a proper look at him. Surely this can't be real, it's just some form of humiliation, torture surely they aren't going to go through with it if he offers them more money maybe they'll take it and go, leave poor Dutch alone. Vic feels the desperation within him growing when his offer of more money is brushed off and the gunman returns his attention to Dutch. He sees Dutch flinch, hears him whimper softly when the man behind him touches him. The intense flare of anger that flashes through him surprises Vic, he'd love to break that guy's fingers one by one for touching Dutch like that. He hates the humiliation and growing fear he can see in Dutch's face while he blushes in shame and his downcast eyes stare at the floor.

Vic doesn't think he can get anymore enraged but he manages to when the gunman by Dutch tells him that if he doesn't cooperate that Vic's death will be on his conscience. The manipulation being used infuriates him, but he can see that it's having the desired affect and that Dutch is on the verge of giving in, his shoulders slumping in defeat. Vic can't stop himself from calling the gunman a bastard and wishes that Dutch would look at him, that he'd look into his eyes and see that Vic would never blame him for his death. However, Dutch is steadfastly avoiding looking at him as he obeys the gunman and takes the animal's dick out of his trousers. Vic can see Dutch is trembling and he feels his heart clench when the gunman tells him to get onto his knees, he can't try and deny it anymore this abomination is real and nothing is going to stop it. When Dutch lifts his face up to look at the man standing in front of him and asks him not to make him do this Vic can see the unshed tears in his eyes. Vic knows that the vulnerability that is shining out of Dutch's eyes at that moment is only going to spur on the type of monster that these two obviously are. As Dutch drops to his knees Vic can hear the breathing of the man next to him speed up and feels a wave of disgust when, from the corner of his eye, he sees him rubbing at his crotch with his free hand.

Vic feels the soft whimper that comes from Dutch when the gunman asks him if he's ever sucked a guy's dick cut through him. When the gunman by him decides to spur on Dutch's cooperation by hitting Vic in the stomach Vic tries to keep the sound from the blow from escaping his mouth knowing it will be used to coerce Dutch into doing what he desperately doesn't want to. Vic knows he's failed when he sees Dutch squeezing his eyes shut and leaning forward taking the gunman into his mouth. As the tears spill out of Dutch's closed eyes and run down his face and he sobs and chokes around the gunman's flesh invading his mouth Vic can't look any longer and he closes his eyes and turns away. At least he can do that for Dutch look away and refuse to witness his abuse. However, that isn't allowed and he's punched again and told,

"Open your eyes and watch, he's doing this for you."

Then the gunman leans in really close and in a whisper that only Vic can hear he adds,

"If you don't watch everything now you can watch me shove my gun in his mouth and pull the trigger after we've finished using him, your choice."

So feeling vomit rise in his throat Vic complied and swallowed back the sick feeling. He resolved to stay focused and strong he had to be there for Dutch when this ordeal was over, he had to stay alert in case an opportunity to turn the tables on these pigs presented itself. His fury was burning every image of this night into his brain, he knew that they would provide ample fuel for his revenge later on. So Vic forced himself to watch as the first gunman raped Dutch's mouth, all the time knowing that as bad as this was it was only going to get worse.

The fact that when the gunman finally pulled out of his mouth and pulled him up to his feet that Dutch glanced at him and then quickly looked away made a huge wave of sadness wash over him. Vic was sure that Dutch must blame him for not helping him, for letting the gunman force himself into his mouth and then just standing there watching, doing nothing. Vic was sure that after this Dutch would hate him, not only was he the reason that Dutch didn't even have the dignity of trying to fight back, but Vic himself was doing nothing to help him.

The gunman by Vic pulled and prodded him over by the bed and forced him to his knees. Again a threat to Vic was used to make Dutch comply although the point was punctuated by a hard punch to Dutch's face which split open his lip and stunned him for a moment. The growing fear in the room is almost a tangible thing when Dutch reluctantly gets onto the bed still resolutely keeping his eyes averted from Vic, and who can blame him. Sure that Dutch must hate him by now Vic realises he pretty much hates himself by now to. Here he is the tough macho cop Vic Mackey kneeling here doing nothing while a fellow officer; an innocent is about to be violated in the worst way imaginable. 

His thought that Dutch is an innocent startles Vic for a moment then he realises that there is a certain naivete about Dutch, he still believes that the good guys will win if only they follow the rules and work hard enough. Dutch held onto this belief, a belief that Vic and his team had let slip away in exchange for quick results. Vic was surprised to discover that he kinda envied Dutch his faith in the right of the law, and he didn't want to see him lose part of himself. The thought that Dutch was going to be changed forever by the events that were going to take place here tonight saddened Vic more than he'd thought possible. 


	17. Trespass Chapter 17

Disclaimer: - I don't own any of the characters of The Shield, they all belong to Shawn Ryan and FX.

Trespass – Chapter 17.

Vic paused taking a deep breath and opened his eyes relieved that instead of Dutch's bedroom he instead saw the walls of the surgical waiting room. He looked around and found himself looking into the four horrified faces of his listeners. 

"Jesus," Gregory said, "these bastards are sick."

"Yeah well you won't get no argument from me on that score…but there's more…there's worse." Vic reluctantly told them.

"It'll be better to get it all over with now Vic." Aceveda told him, and Vic was surprised to see that some of the earlier suspicion had left his face to be replaced with sympathy instead.

However, when he glanced hopefully at Claudette he felt crestfallen to see that none of the antagonism that had seemed to be directed at him earlier had left her expression. Of course he couldn't blame her he hadn't exactly covered himself in glory during the telling of that nights events. What was worse was that he knew that as his narrative continued that his actions or inaction would only make her despise him even more. Taking a steadying breath he muttered,

"Let's get this over with then."

He closed his eyes and was instantly transported back to that damn room, and that maelstrom of negative emotions that rose up and threaten to swallow him. 

Dutch's first rape began in a sick parody of lovemaking as the gunman stroked his hand lightly over Dutch's body in an almost caress. All the while Dutch lay rigidly on his back every line of his body virtually vibrating with tension. Vic felt a surge of disgust when the man leant down and kissed Dutch on the mouth. That such an intimate, loving act should be so perverted into something dirty and invasive saddened him. While the gunman kissed him and ran his hand down over his body Vic could hear small sounds of distress which were coming from deep in Dutch's throat, and he could see his hands clutching the bedsheet below him so hard that his knuckles were white and bloodless. When the gunman pulled back from the kiss Vic was revolted to see blood on his lips. When Dutch turned to look at him Vic could see a thin trickle of blood that ran down his chin where the skin on his lower lip was not only swollen and broken from the earlier punch, but also from a bite that that pig had just inflicted.

Tearing his gaze away from Dutch's mouth Vic could see the intensity of desperation in Dutch's face as he said,

"Vic please help me…do something…help me…p...pl…please."

Vic felt his heart clench with sorrow. The cold muzzle of the gun pressed against the back of his head preventing him from doing anything except watch. At that moment he knew for sure that not only would Dutch never be the same after this night but neither would he.

Vic felt himself flinch when the gunman by Dutch slapped him and ordered him to look at him and not Vic. He could see that Dutch's resolve not to fight back for his sake was beginning to crumble, and Vic couldn't blame him no matter what it might personally cost him. The vicious blows to Dutch's abdomen and the brutal way the gunman pushed his legs apart had Vic clenching his hands so hard he could feel his nails biting into his palms. Vic caught onto the pain and used it to ground himself. The fury within him was threatening to overwhelm him, and he knew that this whole twisted situation could dissolve into a bloodbath if he let his emotions take over and he made a wrong move. Although Vic wished that he could save Dutch, spare him from this hideous ordeal he realised that more than anything he just wanted to ensure that Dutch lived through the next few hours. Anything else would have to be dealt with when this nightmare was over. 

When Dutch cried out Vic could see that the gunman had stabbed his finger into him a precursor of what was to come. Dutch's panic escalated and he desperately tried to pull himself away from the man looming over him. Dutch was sobbing brokenly in fear while the gunman guarding Vic was getting more and more excited, egging his friend on, eager for his turn. The punch to his face after his mistimed swing at his attacker left Dutch stunned and Vic could almost feel himself reeling from that blow. Suddenly it happened and the scream from Dutch as the man holding him down lunged into him, violating him cut through Vic and he felt tears well up in his eyes. He impatiently blinked them away remembering his vow to remain strong for Dutch's sake. He bit down on the inside of his cheek the pain and coppery taste of blood in his mouth grounding him.

Vic's eyes stare transfixed at the brutal scene in front of him. Dutch's cries of agony lancing through him piercing his heart. The accompanying groans of pleasure from Dutch's rapist and the gunman behind Vic filling Vic with revulsion. It seemed to be going on forever the rapist lowering himself over Dutch his face twisted, his eyes burning with desire as he began a sick chant,

"Fucking yes…oh fuck that's good…so fucking tight." 

Dutch's screams faded to agony filled moans every time that animal pushed himself into him. Finally after what seemed like an eternity the rapist grunts and shudders against Dutch as he cums, while Dutch once more cries out in distress and pain. 

When the man gets off Dutch laughing and being congratulated by his friend Vic ignores them, blotting them out and concentrating completely on Dutch. He watches as Dutch curls into a fetal position, his back to them, his backside coated in blood and semen which is still running out of him and down his thighs. Vic is afraid by the amount of blood he sees and the overwhelming sense that something very deep and fundamental inside Dutch has been irreparably damaged.


	18. Trespass Chapter 18

Disclaimer: - I don't own any of the characters of The Shield, they all belong to Shawn Ryan and FX.

Trespass – Chapter 18.

Vic was so completely focused on Dutch that he was taken by surprise when the second gunman moved into his field of vision, getting on top of the bed and grabbing Dutch. Instinctively Vic made a move towards the bed trying to rise up from his knees, but was prevented from doing so by the first gunman, who was by him, placing a firm hand onto his shoulder. He pressed down forcing Vic to stay kneeling and then he could feel the cold metal of the barrel of the man's gun being pressed against his cheek.

"Ah, ah, ah that's enough of that…don't want to disturb the lovebirds now do we?" He laughed.

"You're sick…" Vic replied, his tone cold.

"Oh you don't know what you're missing." The gunman said. 

He trailed the gun down Vic's cheek and moved it back until he could feel the small, perfect circle of the barrel pressing into the soft flesh under his right ear.

"A guy like you, don't tell me you haven't thought about it huh…just taking what you want." The gunman's head was next to Vic's, and he could feel the warmth of his breath as it moved by his ear as he spoke.

"Shut up." Vic muttered to that poisonous voice through gritted teeth.

"It was great you know…holding him down, making him submit. Forcing my way inside him when everything about him was trying to keep me out. I was stronger though and I was the first…no one else had ever touched him like that. Do you know what it's like…it's so tight it's almost painful you know, but you can feel his body give in, you can feel your flesh tearing into him. Then you feel the blood…hot and slick making it easier, smoothing the way. His own body betraying him, making it easier for you to push yourself all the way inside. Looking into his face while I was doing him, looking into his eyes…all that pain and fear, watching him cry. Jesus just makes you harder. I knew you were watching, watching everytime I forced my way into him…making him scream. You liked it didn't you, I can tell? Did it turn you on…make you hard? Would you like a go after my friend finishes with him…we can hold him down for you if you'd like."

Vic felt sick, God how warped were these two.

"Come on man get on with your sloppy seconds I think the tough guy here might want a taste when you're through"

Vic looked up and could see Dutch's pale, tear-streaked face, his eyes pain-filled and haunted, looking at the gunman behind him.

"Shut up you sick prick. When this is over I'm going to find you and fucking kill you." Vic vowed the fury he felt evident in every syllable.

The gunman's grip on his shoulder tightened, and he pressed the gun harder into Vic's skin as he hissed,

"Keep your mouth shut and watch motherfucker, or I'll forget that little deal we've got and just kill the pair of you when we're done."

The sound of Dutch crying out in pain jolted through Vic, and he felt something cold and deadly settle deep inside himself as the second gunman began thrusting, and grunting, and clawing at Dutch while his screams were muffled by the bed underneath him. When Dutch's cries of terror, pain and distress became soft whimpers and sobs the man by Vic couldn't resist leaning into him again to gloat,

"If you want a turn here's a little tip for you. Be as rough as you can be…the more brutal you are the more pain you'll cause him. The more it hurts the more he'll clench up trying to stop you and then the tighter he'll be and the better a fuck he'll be for you."

Vic saw red, his temper hot and all consuming and this was too much. He forgot about the gun and jerked his head back hoping to hit the gunman in the face, wanting to inflict as much damage as he could. Unfortunately, the man had been expecting it and dodged back and around using the butt of the gun to smack Vic in the face. Pain flashed through him and the force of the blow knocked him down to the floor. Blood was running hot from his nose, down over his chin and onto his tee shirt.

"Try that again and I won't kill you…I'll kill him, understand?" The gunman threatened.

When Vic didn't respond he pointed the gun towards the bed where a shout of,

"Jesus, yes!"

Signaled the completion of Dutch's second rape.

"I said understand!" The first gunman reiterated.

"Yes, yes I understand." Vic was forced to conceded.

"Good now get up and get over by the wall. I've just had an idea." The man told him grinning.

Vic stopped unable to continue knowing that as bad as his narrative had been so far at least all he was guilty of was failing to act, now it would be so much worse, so much more unforgivable. He was no longer a passive participant in the events that took place in that room, but he was about to become an active participant in them instead.

God he couldn't forgive himself for what he'd done to Dutch how would Claudette feel when she heard what had happened, Christ she'd probably want to kill him. It wouldn't only be Claudette either Aceveda would know, and although he didn't exactly have a good opinion of Vic already at least he didn't view him as a pervert, a rapist. It was a difficult thought but that was exactly what Vic felt like, it was what those two sicko's had made him into. There was no escaping it though he couldn't cover it up, even if for some reason Dutch didn't tell them when he woke up the physical evidence was indisputable. Looking over at the others he braced himself for the reactions his confession was going to elicit from them.

"Do you think you can carry on Detective Mackey?" Lehane asked.

Vic knew that Lehane would be eager to get the statement finished and start the investigation moving forward.

"There's something you have to know…something…something difficult." Vic stumbled over the words wishing with every fibre of his body that he didn't have to tell anyone this, wishing it had never happened.

"Oh you don't think listening to all this hasn't been difficult enough!" Claudette demanded. "Jesus Vic did you do anything to help him…I mean God you just let those two animals do what ever they wanted to Dutch and you did nothing!"

Vic could see the anger, confusion and despair in her face as she lashed out at him, the nearest and most convenient target for her to vent her frustrations onto. He didn't blame her and sat still letting her fury wash over him as he gazed at the floor. He was surprised when it was Aceveda who came to his defense.

"Claudette… Detective Wyms!" He barked sharply. "Don't say something you're going to regret later. Let's allow Vic to finish his statement."

Claudette scowled at them both crossing her arms and turning partially away from them.

Taking a breath Vic plunged on before his courage deserted him,

"When the lab analyses the rape kit the doctors took in the ER their going to find the semen samples from the two men. When they look at the mouth swab they're…um…they're going to find DNA from a third man."

"Three, but I thought you said there were two attackers." Gregory interrupted sounding confused.

Wishing himself anywhere but here, wishing he had his hands around the throats of those two bastards right now Vic swallowed and said sadly, 

"There was two…the third sample will be mine."


	19. Trespass Chapter 19

Disclaimer: - I don't own any of the characters of The Shield, they all belong to Shawn Ryan and FX.

Trespass - Chapter 19.

The silence that this statement produced seemed to scream in Vic's ears. He felt his hands clench into fists as he waited for the reaction his words would elicit. He expected shouting what he got was Aceveda's voice, almost so quiet he had to strain to hear it above the thudding of his own heartbeat,

"What do you mean? You don't mean…" Aceveda couldn't finish his question as he realised that yes that was exactly what Vic meant.

Then the explosion came and from the direction that Vic had anticipated,

"You…you animal. God you're no better than they are…how could you do that to him…how could you!"

Looking up he could see Claudette looming over him. Her right hand seemed to twitch and Vic wasn't sure if she wanted to smack him or reach for her gun and finish him off completely. Although he knew he deserved her anger, her loathing, he also felt compelled to defend himself,

"Do you think I wanted to? That I was getting off on what they were doing to him… Jesus Claudette you don't know…you weren't there. I had no choice…they gave me no choice. If I didn't do what they wanted they were going to rape him again and kill him. Is that what you'd prefer huh? Would you rather I was sitting here telling you I had the chance to save him but couldn't bring myself to do it so I just let them murder him?"

He could see a brief flash of uncertainty cross her face as he spoke, but it was only there for an instant before it was replaced by ice-cold anger.

"Surely there must have been something you could of done…something other than that?" She said, her voice leached of emotion.

Again Aceveda came to his defense, stepping up to Claudette he laid a gentle hand on her arm leading her away from Vic,

"Why don't we let him finish Claudette, then we can figure out how we're going to handle all this ok?"

Impatiently brushing off his touch and turning back to glare at Vic she muttered,

"Fine…let's listen to him talk his way out of this."

Aceveda turned from Claudette with a sigh. This whole situation was highly charged, highly emotional and he needed to try and keep a lid on things, try to keep it under control. The last thing he needed was for two of his detectives to be at each other's throats at a time like this. Gesturing to Vic he said,

"Carry on Vic."

Nodding Vic cleared his throat and continued with the last part of his statement.

*

Vic stumbled up from the floor by the bed as the first gunman pulled him up by his arm. Vic looked into his face, looked at his smirking face, and felt hatred well up within him white-hot and all consuming. In a deadly tone he leant towards the man and said,

"I'm going to kill you slowly." Vic meant every word.

For the first time that night the smirk on the gunman's face faltered as he saw the cold expression on Vic's face. With a snarl he backhanded Vic, and Vic could feel the skin on his lip split from the force of the blow. Vic's head had been dashed to one side by the strength of the blow but he slowly and calmly turned back to face his attacker, licking the blood from his lower lip. Again he was sure he could detect a trace of uncertainty and fear in the gunman's eyes when he saw the coldness in Vic. With a push he shoved Vic towards the wall and said,

"Get over there I said…face the wall and don't move!"

As Vic turned away to move over to the spot indicated he glanced at Dutch. Concern spiked through him as he saw his curled form lying still and silent on the bed, his back covered in bruises and scratch marks. Then he felt that poisonous touch on him again,

"Over there now…or you know what happens to your friend."

Reluctantly Vic obeyed and with his back to the room he could hear the two men laughing,

"Fuck man that was intense. Pity we don't have more time, I wouldn't mind another turn at that ass!"

"He's sweet no doubt about it, but come here I've got an idea."

Their voices dropped to whispers and strain as he could Vic couldn't make out what was being said, what was being planned. However, he felt ice settle in the pit of his stomach when he heard the second gunman suddenly laugh again saying,

"Oh yeah, that I've gotta see!"

Vic stiffened when he sensed someone behind him and felt the gun once again pressed into his side. He recognised the voice of the second gunman as he told him,

"Turn around nice and slow we're gonna have a little chat."

When he'd turned around Vic had to repress his revulsion when the man pressed up against him and began speaking to him in a low voice, his mouth right next to Vic's ear,

"My buddy and me think we've been unfair to you, keeping that sweet thing all to ourselves. Besides I hear you got all hot and hard watching us fuck him…want some yourself huh? So here's what we're gonna do for you. Our little fuck toy over there is gonna come over here and give you a blow job."

Vic felt his stomach turn at the man's words,

"Oh Jesus no." He whispered.

"Oh yeah. See it's like this if you don't fuck his mouth and cum down his throat you can watch while me and my buddy take turns fucking his ass again. Then you can watch me kill him. Blow his face off…hmm…splatter his brains all over the wall…how's that. Up to you…cause you know I wouldn't mind getting another fuck outta him so either's good for me."

Vic's blood turned to ice in his veins at these words. He kept hoping that that this night would get no worse, but he kept finding that he was wrong and that it could. He heard Dutch's voice,

"No!"

Glancing quickly in his direction Vic could see the anguish on his face, as well as hear it in his voice, and he knew that Dutch had been told what perversion was going to be forced on him next. Forced on him by someone he was supposed to trust. The animal by Dutch was still whispering in his ear, and Vic saw Dutch squeeze his eyes shut and try to turn away. Vic found himself copying Dutch's actions as he too closed his eyes and turned away.

Suddenly he heard a noise close by him and the next thing he knew was Dutch being dumped on the floor at his feet. Vic looked down to see Dutch hunched over on the floor, his head down. There were scratches and bruises all over him, bruises in the shape of fingers and Vic's stomach clenched when he saw several bite marks too. His backside and thighs were covered in dried and fresh blood. The tangy scent of blood and semen reached Vic's nostrils and made him want to retch. The first man drew back his foot then and kicked Dutch in the ribs,

"Get on with it, come on!" He said impatiently.

Vic flinched at the blow and as he watched Dutch slowly and painfully pulled himself to his knees. His eyes were clenched shut and his face pale, sad and defeated. At that moment Vic felt that what he was about to force on Dutch would strip away the last vestige of the Dutch he'd known just a few short hours ago. This realisation made Vic incredibly sad. He felt sad that he hadn't bothered to get to know that Dutch better, and now it would be too late to do so. Looking away Vic tried to prepare himself for what was about to happen, what he was about to do.

The sound of another kick was followed by a soft grunt of pain and then that hated voice demanding,

"Come on we're waiting."

Vic held his breath as he felt a soft, trembling touch on the outside of his shorts, and then the cool touch of Dutch's fingers on his penis. He couldn't help himself and he jumped at the sensation of that touch, and he tried to move back. However, the wall behind him meant no escape. Vic's whole body, every nerve ending, every sense seemed to narrow down to that cool, gentle touch. Vic could feel his body begin to tremble with pent up tension as Dutch's long fingers wrapped around his penis and pulled it slowly free from his underwear. Vic closed his eyes and tried to calm himself down. He could hear the rush of his blood loud in his ears, his heart thudding in his chest. Then Dutch's voice so melancholy and lost,

"Please don't make me do this…please haven't you done enough…just…not this."

There was a hissed reply from the gunman that Vic didn't hear and then suddenly warm, moist breath against his penis. Then Vic felt himself enveloped by Dutch's unwilling mouth. Vic couldn't stop the sharp intake of breath at the sensation. He could feel Dutch begin to suck on him and he knew he wouldn't be able to control his reactions for long. He knew in that second that he would do exactly what the gunmen wanted him to do because this felt too good. His guilt was overwhelming, how could he get even a glimmer of enjoyment from this. He tried to squirm away before he lost control, and Dutch would know for sure that he was no better than those animals that had already hurt him so badly. That's not allowed though, and a half-hearted jab in his side stills him and the second gunman laughs and tells him,

"Keep still man…just stand still and enjoy."

It is the words from the other man that follow that frighten Vic though,

"Shit what's wrong with you tough guy can't you get it up or something…we haven't got all fucking night get on with it…or didn't my friend explain things to you huh?"

At that moment Vic knows for sure that he can't fight, he can't save Dutch or himself. If he doesn't commit this atrocity against Dutch he'll have to watch as Dutch is raped again and then murdered, and he couldn't bare that. So he forces himself to relax as best he can.

Vic could feel Dutch pause for a moment at the man's words, and then he had to suppress a groan as he felt Dutch's tongue move hesitantly against the underside of his penis. As it rubbed against the sensitive flesh Vic couldn't suppress the second groan that fell from his lips, and he could feel his penis begin to swell in Dutch's mouth. Dutch began to move his mouth over Vic's penis, sucking it and tonguing it to erection. Vic could hear the gunmen laughing and commenting but he tried to blot them out, blot everything out except the incredible sensations Dutch was creating with his mouth. Vic could feel his hips moving, wanting to thrust into that warm mouth and he had to hold himself back, trying to keep control, trying to stop himself from moaning in guilty pleasure. His hands itched to be able to reach down so he could run his fingers through the soft hair he could feel brushing against his thighs as Dutch's head moved backwards and forwards.

Vic could feel his excitement building as that warm, wet mouth moved faster over his throbbing erection. Dutch's tongue was flicking over the head of his penis, dipping into the slit there, it seemed to Vic as if he was tasting him. Vic was having trouble holding back his thrusts, his breathing becoming faster and more frantic. Suddenly a voice in his ear,

"Open your eyes…do it! That's right now look down…look down and watch him suck you off."

He couldn't stop himself from obeying and looked down at the figure kneeling in front of him. He had formed a vague plan to try and pretend that this was really Corinne and not Dutch, he'd thought he'd be able to do it and that it would make this some how easier. However, that plan hadn't worked so far and it certainly didn't work now. There was no denying that the dark haired head between his thighs was Dutch and with that realisation Vic felt his orgasm slam through him. He could feel his cum flooding into Dutch's mouth, and the sensation of Dutch's throat moving as he swallowed it just made it even more intense.

Suddenly the warmth is gone from his flesh and he can hear Dutch gasping and urging, desperately trying not to be sick. The grinning face of the first gunman is in front of him as he leans in to him and quietly says in a voice only Vic can hear,

"See he's got a talented mouth…how's it feel to be a rapist?"

Vic could feel his entire life spinning away from him at those words. As he looked down at Dutch still fighting to keep his cum down Vic felt disgusted with himself. He couldn't prevent the feeling of despair that welled up inside him. For the first time during this nightmare he couldn't fight back the tears that welled up in his eyes. As he closed his eyes he could feel himself begin to shake when the first gunman said loudly,

"Congratulations, now you're one of us!"

Unable to say much more Vic merely manages to hastily explain that that is when the first gunman began to kick Dutch, and in his fear that he was dying Vic had moved forward to try and stop it. It was then he'd been knocked unconscious and that the rest they knew.

*

When he'd finished he braced himself and looked up at the others. They just stared back at him shock with horror on their faces. It was then that Vic realised his face was wet and he got an overwhelming feeling of claustrophobia. He needed out, he needed to escape from that room, from those stares. Lurching to his feet he mumbled,

"Excuse me."

He stumbled out into the corridor ignoring Aceveda's voice as it called out to him and he stumbled into the nearest men's room. He paused for a second before he rushed to a cubicle and was sick.


	20. Trespass Chapter 20

Disclaimer: - I don't own any of the characters of The Shield, they all belong to Shawn Ryan and FX.

Trespass – Chapter 20.

Since he'd already thrown up at Dutch's house earlier on Vic didn't have much left in his stomach. The dry retching this left him with soon made his stomach muscles ache, and an uncomfortable throbbing begin in his head. It seemed that the painkiller the ER doctor had given him was starting to wear off. When his body finally stopped trying to turn itself inside out he closed his eyes and rested his head against the cool side of the cubicle. He could hear raised voices outside in the corridor and knew that it was Claudette and Aceveda. He thought grimly that Claudette probably wanted to rip him a new one and who could blame her. He had sat in that pastel room and told her he had orally raped her partner, her friend. If he had been in her position he would want to strike out too. Abruptly the voices ceased and he breathed a sigh of relief. Although Vic knew a confrontation with Claudette would come he would really rather it not be now. With a groan he pulled himself upright and had to rest against the wall for a moment while he waited for his head to stop spinning. He half stumbled over to the sinks and turned on the cold water tap in one and cupping his hand under the frigid stream he scooped up a handful and washed it over his face. He breathed in sharply as the cold liquid covered his skin, but it felt refreshing and he repeated the process twice more. That sense of overwhelming exhaustion was still lurking in the background, but Vic just needed to keep going for a few hours more. He needed to contact Shane to check in with him and see if he'd heard anything from his friend at Westwood about how the investigation was going, the forensic team should be getting some preliminary results by now. This was an attack on a cop; one of their own, it would be a top priority he knew. He also wanted to know if the Strike Team had managed to turn up anything on the streets. Sick bastards like this sometimes liked to brag about what they'd done and if they had breathed a word about it Vic wanted to know. However, he didn't feel he could do any of this yet, he had something much more important to occupy him. First he needed to know how Dutch was; he needed to know that he was still alive, that he'd recover, physically at least. Reluctantly Vic looked up at himself in the mirror over the sink. After what he'd done to Dutch Vic hadn't been sure if he'd be able to face himself in the mirror again. He remembered that time in the car thief's bathroom when him and the team had just cleaned up their stolen drugs and wiped away the traces of it from the overdosed guy at the kitchen table. Vic himself was in the bathroom after having flushed a kilo of coke down the toilet seconds before Aceveda had shown up. As he gazed at his blood-shot eyes Vic could remember catching himself in the mirror that night. He hadn't liked what he'd seen staring back at him then, what he'd become and he didn't like it now.

He was startled out of his self-recrimination by the sound of the bathroom door opening. He didn't turn around instead he switched the tap back on and began to wash his hands. There was silence as whoever had entered the bathroom merely stood by the door watching him and saying nothing. Vic ignored them and continued to wash his hands, he was pretty sure he knew who it was anyway. His guess was proved correct when the sound of a throat being cleared was followed by the still shocked voice of Captain David Aceveda,

"Lehane and Gregory are going to wait here until the surgeon comes and talks to us."

"What they want to see if this is going to turn out to be a murder investigation instead of just a rape and assault?" Vic replied bitterly.

"Probably…just as you would if you were them…or just as Dutch would if it was his case. You can't resent them for doing their job Vic; we all have to work together on this. That means we have to pull together, not go off doing our own thing, looking for our own brand of justice." Aceveda told him.

Vic turned, leaning back against the cool porcelain of the sink behind him, and regarded Aceveda keeping his expression neutral at the Captain's words.

"You implying something?" He asked.

Aceveda sighed, he'd just butted heads with Claudette in the corridor, stopping her from following Vic and making matters worse by taking her frustration and anger out on him. In the end a nurse had come up to them and told them in no uncertain terms that if they didn't stop it they would by escorted from the hospital and not allowed back. Now he had to try and reason with Vic Mackey, not something he'd ever had much success with in the past.

"Come on Vic, don't think that I don't know that the fact you're too personally involved in this case and so can't investigate it is going to stop you from trying. If I was in your place I would want in too, but you have to let Lehane and Gregory do their jobs. If you try to do things on your own and you get carried away, make a mistake in procedure then you know as well as I do what could happen. I don't want to have to be the one to explain to Dutch that the men who did this to him walked because you got sloppy and broke the rules. Besides it's not only for Dutch's sake, you're a victim here as well Vic, they hurt you too."

Vic snorted in derision at these words, and Aceveda had to resist the urge to flinch backwards, away from the bitter self-hatred that he could see shining out of Vic's eyes. Contacting the department shrink had been on his list of things to do after they knew how Dutch was, but now David realised that it would be for Vic as well as Dutch. He was only now beginning to realise the full extent of the damage that this attack had done to these two men.

"Oh yeah, I really suffered! Christ didn't you hear what I said just now? They did all those things to Dutch not to me. No, I just completely betrayed him…he asked me to help him and what did I end up doing… Fuck I came…what kind of a person does that make me?" Vic turned away from Aceveda regretting saying so much.

Taking a step towards Vic Aceveda tried to make Vic see that it wasn't his fault. Although Vic had said that all those awful things had been done to Dutch and not to him, David wasn't so sure. Physically Dutch had been the one to suffer, but David could see that part of the gunmen's game had been to make Vic suffer vicariously. The final part of their game had been the most evil in his opinion, to make Vic feel like he was one of them, they'd obviously gone out of their way to inflict as much psychological damage, as well as physical damage. 

"You couldn't help that…it's…it's a physiological response. It doesn't make you a rapist Vic." He said softly.

Vic seemed to fold in on himself, lowering his head to look at the floor. Aceveda had to strain to hear his words,

"Well why don't we ask Dutch when he wakes up what he thinks huh."

"Dutch isn't going to blame you Vic." Aceveda tried to reassure him.

Raising his head again to look at Aceveda Vic asked,

"Oh and why shouldn't he… I did it…and I must of enjoyed it right, after all it was my cum he had to try and not puke up!"

"Do you blame him." Aceveda asked.

Puzzled Vic frowned, shaking his head he said,

"I don't understand…blame him for what?"

"For letting those men have sex with him…for not being able to stop them. I mean what do you think…maybe he enjoyed it huh?"

Vic took a step towards Aceveda his hands clenching into fists,

"Of course I don't blame him…Jesus he did what he did to save my life. He didn't enjoy it and it wasn't sex it was rape!"

"Exactly Vic…and what they did to you that was a form of rape too. They forced you to take part in a sex act against your will. If you hadn't done what you'd done they would have hurt Dutch even more and killed him…just like Dutch, you had no choice."

Vic didn't look convinced, but at least he didn't look like he wanted to rip David's head off anymore. He partially turned away,

"You have any luck getting Claudette to buy that?" He asked.

"Not yet, but she'll come around Vic. She's just hurt and confused and mad as hell. She wants to hit out at someone for this; to blame someone for what's happened to Dutch and you're here. She'll see that none of this was your fault and what you did, well you did it to save Dutch not to hurt him."

"Right." Vic said, sounding unconvinced.

"Are you coming back to the waiting room? Hopefully the doctor will be along soon to talk to us."

"Yeah…I just need a couple more minutes ok." Vic told him.

Nodding his understanding Aceveda turned to leave, but he paused and turned back, his hand resting on the door handle.

"Just remember what I said Vic. Keep out of this investigation…we need it to be by the book so that when we get these animals they get what they deserve and go away for a long time. I know how you feel you know…I'd like five minutes alone in a room with them too."

Vic looked at the Captain's face and was mildly surprised to see that he meant that. Schooling his face into an expression of complete sincerity Vic prepared to lie to him,

"I know…I understand. I won't get in the way of this investigation I want them caught too."

Aceveda didn't look completely convinced but he nodded and once again turned to leave. Vic didn't want to end this conversation with a lie so he said,

"I want those two to get exactly what they deserve too."

From the open doorway Aceveda once more looked at Vic and frowned at the sincerity he heard behind those words. He frowned because he wasn't sure if his definition of what the gunmen deserved and Vic's definition were one and the same thing. However, he couldn't judge Vic's expression as he'd turned his back to the door and was once more splashing cold water over his face.


	21. Trespass Chapter 21

Disclaimer: - I don't own any of the characters of The Shield, they all belong to Shawn Ryan and FX. 

Trespass – Chapter 21.

Feeling slightly more human after having freshened up a little Vic made his way back to the waiting room. He glanced around as he stepped inside; the two Westwood detectives were sitting off to one side of the room looking bored and not bothering to hide it. If it was up to these two to solve the case Vic reckoned that the perps would never be caught. Not wasting any more of his time with them he steeled himself and looked over to Claudette and Aceveda who were standing by the coffee machine speaking in low tones. Too low for Vic to hear what was being said, but from the way Claudette glanced icily in his direction he guessed the conversation was about him. Turning away he noticed for the first time since re-entering the room that someone had pulled back the blinds on the large window and that it was daylight outside. Vic was surprised not having realised just how much time had obviously passed since he'd entered the hospital earlier. One of the detectives to his right yawned and Vic was about to turn and enquire if they were keeping him awake when the door opened and a middle-aged, male doctor wearing green surgical scrubs stepped into the room.

The atmosphere suddenly changed; the air becoming electric, charged with tension and a surge of worry that was almost palpable. The two detectives came to their feet readying their notebooks and Claudette and Aceveda both moved to stand next to Vic. The doctor smiled, which helped somewhat to lessen the knot of fear that had begun to twist in Vic's gut,

"You're waiting for news of Detective Wagenbach I assume?" The surgeon asked.

"That's right, how is he?" Aceveda asked the question they all wanted answered.

"He came through the surgery very well and is in the process of being moved to the intensive care unit." He told them.

The mention of intensive care made that knot inside of Vic begin to twist again.

"My name's Doctor Austin and I carried out the surgery on Detective Wagenbach. If we can all sit down I'll explain what we've done and how we all move on from here." Smiling the doctor indicated the comfortable waiting room chairs and everyone sat down, while none took their attention away from him.

"Now there are several points to go through with you and if you don't understand anything don't hesitate to stop me and ask for clarification. It can be a little daunting trying to take in so much information at once sometimes." He paused while everyone nodded their understanding to him, and while Vic just wished he'd cut the bedside manner and get to the details.

"Well Detective Wagenbach was red-lined from the ER with a grade 3 injury to his spleen. This is a serious condition and meant that there was damage to the spleen, the vessels and the hilum, all of which contributed to serious blood loss due to internal bleeding. He was given seven units of blood during the surgery and will be given a further three units in the ICU. A contributory factor to the spleen injury was the three broken ribs he has on his left side. There are a further two cracked ribs on the left of his rib cage and three cracked ribs on the right side. Now the procedure to remove his spleen was a complete success. He can manage perfectly well without his spleen and should be able to carry on with his life as it was before. The only thing is that it can make him more at risk from infections and illnesses for a while as his immune system will be weakened while he fully recovers. However as long as he is careful and has regular check ups and takes the medication he'll be prescribed there should be no major problems. He's young and strong so the prognosis is very favourable." Doctor Austin paused to let them digest this piece of news before he plunged on with the rest of his report.

"Now due to time restraints in the ER they hadn't inserted a Foley Catheter, but we did in the OR and found that as suspected there was haemurea, or blood in the urine, present. A scan was carried out which indicates that Detective Wagenbach's kidneys were severely bruised during the attack he suffered. We're fairly confident that over time the kidney's function will be fully restored, although he will have blood present in his urine for some time I'm afraid. We'll be carefully monitoring his urine output to keep a close watch on things. However, there is a possibility that he'll have to undergo haemodialysis for three or four hours a day just until they recover. Any questions so far?" He asked.

There was a slight pause before he carried on. 

"Now on to the damage caused by what was a particularly vicious sexual assault. There is substantial bruising and tearing to the anus, sphincter muscles and rectum. Fortunately there was no perforation of the bowel so that lessens the risk of peritonitis occurring. The damage that was caused required a total of twenty-seven stitches, both internally and externally. Due to the risk of infection which such injuries can cause, and which because of his body's lowered immunity due to the splenectomy must be avoided if possible, we made the decision to give Detective Wagenbach a temporary colostomy. I would like to emphasize that it is only temporary. When his injuries have healed we'll take him back to the operating theater and reverse it, which is a minor and easy procedure. Other than a small scar he'll be fine. I know this is a lot to take in at once but we're nearly there now." He said smiling reassuringly at his silent, solemn audience.

Clearing his throat he told them the rest.

"He does have a head injury which was causing us some concern and so was given a head CT at the earliest opportunity. The scan revealed a contusion of the cerebral tissue that has resulted in a swelling of the brain at the frontal lobe, which has raised his intracranial pressure. The decision has been taken to elect for drug treatment as opposed to surgery to bring the swelling down. However, his condition will be closely monitored and any deterioration in Detective Wagenbach's condition would mean surgery becoming an option. Now there are also various contusions and lacerations covering his body and we also found what appears to be several human bite marks." As he said the last the revulsion in the doctor's voice was evident.

Stopping Doctor Austin sat back in his chair and looked at them expectantly. Vic was still trying to take it all in, it seemed to him to be a horrific list of hurt and damage. Both Claudette and even Aceveda looked slightly shell-shocked at the information they'd been presented with so far. It was Detective Lehane who spoke first,

"When will Detective Wagenbach be conscious? We need to get a statement from him as soon as possible." 

"Ah," The doctor said. "That might not be possible for some days I'm afraid."

"Why's that?" Gregory butted in.

"Well," the doctor began, "due to the nature of the attack it's quite natural to assume that Detective Wagenbach will be very upset and agitated when he regains consciousness. The intracranial pressure means that this is unacceptable, he must be kept as calm and quiet as possible. So he is going to be very heavily sedated for a while, it'll be a drug-induced coma to help his body heal."

Neither of the Westwood detectives looked very pleased with this news. Doctor Austin smiled apologetically at them before he spoke again.

"Look, Detective Wagenbach will be settled in soon and then two of you can go to see him. However, the ICU can be a shock to those who're not used to it so if I just tell you what to expect I'm sure you'll be better prepared."

"Thank you doctor, we'd appreciate that." Aceveda told him.

"Ok, firstly he'll be on a ventilator, which is always a frightening thing to be confronted with. However, it's there because of the sedation combined with the rib injuries he sustained, it's necessary to help Detective Wagenbach with his breathing. Hopefully after three or four days they'll be able to decrease the level of sedation and wean him off the ventilator."

"So we'll be able to interview him in three or four days?" Gregory asked impatiently.

Vic had to suppress an urge to smack the man in the mouth and when he glanced at Claudette he could see he wasn't the only one. As he looked at her she suddenly turned towards him and their eyes locked for a few seconds. A mutual understanding at their annoyance with Detective Gregory passed between them and Vic thought that the coldness in her expression towards him thawed a little. Maybe Aceveda had managed to talk her into giving him a chance. Although Vic wasn't sure if he was worthy of that chance if it was being offered he would be glad to take it. Him and Claudette hadn't always seen eye to eye in the past, disagreements occurring between them due to Vic's methods that often earned him Claudette's disapproval. However, she had never regarded him as a complete monster and after his recent revelations that was the impression he had gotten from her, and he found himself wanting to redeem himself in her eyes. Soon he'd be able to begin his redemption, when he was able to start searching for the scum who'd done this. The doctor started to speak again and Vic tore his attention back to him not wanting to miss anything.

"Well I doubt it I'm sorry. Although he'll be less sedated he will still be quite out of things for a further few days. He will have moments of consciousness but they'll be quite brief to begin with and I doubt he'll be too lucid at the beginning."

Gregory and Lehane's disappointment was plain to see at this news.

"You were telling us about the intensive care unit." Aceveda prompted the doctor.

"Ah yes…of course. Now I told you about the ventilator, but there will be quite a few other machines there all helping to monitor his condition, and to help him get well. The intracranial pressure needs to be very closely monitored, of course, so there will be a fibreoptic catheter to do that. Now this always sounds worse to people than it actually is, but the catheter is placed in the top of the head and will rest in the sub dural space. It's quite harmless there and Detective Wagenbach won't be experiencing any discomfort from its presence. There will be a central line in his sub clavian vein, which is at his collarbone. This is for his IV that is needed for the blood units he'll be receiving as well as to deliver drugs and help to restore the optimal fluid and electrolyte balance his body needs. There is a risk of systemic infection following a splenectomy so he'll be on a broad spectrum of anti-biotics, especially considering his other injuries. These will all be delivered using this IV. Of course there will be an ECG monitoring his heart and a cannula in the radial artery, in his forearm, to monitor his blood pressure. Finally there'll be a pulse ox monitor clipped onto his finger to measure the oxygen saturation of his blood."

"God." Claudette sighed quietly. 

"I realise this must be very difficult for you but please be assured Detective Wagenbach was doing well when the operation had finished and that we will all be doing our very best for him. The ICU with all its machines and unfamiliar noises, alarms, bleeps, can seem overwhelming but just remember it's all there to help him. Another thing to remember although it might look like it is he isn't going to break." The Doctor told her.

He turned to Vic and Aceveda as well when he spoke his next words.

"You can touch him. People often think they're going to pull something vital out if they do…believe me you won't. It's been shown that in cases of intracranial pressure the calming effect of touch and being spoken to can help. As I'm sure you know it's thought that coma patients are aware of their surrounding to a certain extent so we like to encourage interaction. So hold his hand, talk to him it all helps I promise. Now if you don't have any questions I'll be leaving you now, but I'll have someone show you to the ICU when they have Detective Wagenbach settled in and I'll be sure to check in with him myself soon."

Standing the doctor moved towards the door before he paused and turned back to them.

"Oh I almost forgot. I just wanted to assure you that I'll make sure the blood tests that were taken with the rape-kit, in the ER, are red-lined through the lab."

"Blood tests?" Aceveda asked.

"Yes…the tests for sexually transmitted diseases, HIV and hepatitis. I'm sorry, I realise this must be hard but as I said before due to the nature of the attack, and the evidence that his attackers didn't wear condoms, it is necessary."

"Of course." Aceveda said.

Vic was aware that the Captain was thanking the doctor but all he could concentrate on were his last words to them, "…sexually transmitted diseases, HIV and hepatitis." This whole ordeal just got worse and worse, he hadn't even thought about that. Christ those animals could of given Dutch anything, for all he knew they could already of sentenced him to death. Looking at Claudette he could see the same realisation in her face, the anger once more being replaced with fear.


	22. Trespass Chapter 22

Disclaimer: - I don't own any of the characters of The Shield, they all belong to Shawn Ryan and FX.

Trespass – Chapter 22.

As the door slid shut behind Doctor Austin there was a moment of silence that was broken by the sound of Detective Lehane clearing his throat as he and Gregory put away their notebooks.

"Since we won't be getting anything from the vict…um from Detective Wagenbach, we'll be on our way. We want to get things moving so…um…we'll leave you to it." Lehane stumbled slightly over his words.

Truth be told he was eager to leave. He felt like something of an intruder amongst the Farmington cops, plus this whole case made him distinctly uncomfortable. Detective Mackey's part in the events of that night complicated things and he could see it all getting horribly fucked up somewhere down the line. Plus while he considered himself a fair-minded guy, male rape just freaked him out. These two were cops for Christ sake surely they should have been able to do something. He glanced at Gregory and saw the same unease on his partner's face. Then Gregory looked pointedly down at his watch. They had to call in at the crime scene yet to see what forensics had come up with and they would still be four hours late finishing their shift, still the overtime pay would be handy.

"I'll walk down with you." Aceveda told them. "I need to step outside, I have a couple of calls to make."

"Sure." Lehane said, pausing at the open door of the waiting room.

Turning to Vic and Claudette Aceveda said, 

"I won't be long try and stay civil with each other. I know this is stressful but try to think about what Dutch needs right now and not about yourselves."

With those words of warning he left with Lehane and Gregory, while Vic felt the tension in the room rise a couple of notches. With a sigh he sat down in the nearest chair the entire time feeling Claudette's gaze on him, he felt like a bug under a microscope. Unable to stand the silent scrutiny that Claudette was subjecting him to he decided to once more try to get her to understand how sorry he was, how much he wished he could change things. Looking up at her he said,

"I don't know how many times I can say I'm sorry to you Claudette. If I'd of known when that piece of shit dragged me out of bed what they had planned I'd of tried to get to my gun, but I swear I thought I was doing the right thing, I thought it was just a burglary."

Claudette stared at him and then sat down. She looked down at the floor for a moment gathering her thoughts and then raised her eyes to his as she asked,

"Surely there was something you could have done…some way of stopping them?"

Her voice sounded unsure and full of sadness. Vic was shocked, he'd never seen Claudette like this she was always so sure of herself, confident and forthright. He was relieved however that the earlier anger that had been directed at him seemed to have burned itself out. He leaned towards her as he said,

"I was afraid Claudette."

She frowned,

"Afraid?" She asked sounding confused.

"Yeah…I didn't know how far these two would go. They threatened to kill me, to kill Dutch…if I made the wrong move I was afraid of what they'd do. You might not agree it was right, and hell I'm not sure it was right either, but I decided it was better for Dutch to live through what they were doing and deal with the fallout afterwards. That's why I…um…I did what I did. You can't think I wanted to do that to him surely Claudette. Christ, I know you don't have a high opinion of my methods sometimes but Jesus."

Claudette bit her lip and looked uncertain for a moment before sighing and shaking her head as she said,

"No…no I don't think you wanted to…I know…I realise that you thought you had no choice but it's just…it's hard. God what's this going to do to him? I told Dutch and Aceveda once that for my first few years on the force I spent most of my time taking witness statements from rape victims at the hospital, I've seen this too many times. I've seen what it does to people, it's like a poison that gets in under their skin and changes them, in some cases it destroys them. After having spent so much time seeing what happens to people after this I was always worried it would happen to someone I cared about. I was worried about my daughters, when they were living at home they used to think I was paranoid, obsessed. Nagging them about safety, about being aware, careful…I never thought it could be…"

She stopped her voice breaking and Vic looked away as she angrily wiped her eyes with the palms of her hands.

"He's going to need you Claudette." Vic told her.

"I know…I know, it's just..." She paused and then determinedly changed the subject. "Do you think the doctor told us everything?"

Frowning Vic asked,

"What do you mean?"

"About that head injury…about the swelling. You don't think there could be any brain damage do you? I mean he'd have told us wouldn't he?" She said.

"Yeah…yeah he'd have told us that. He said Dutch would recover, I don't think he was lying, and something like that… he'd have told us. It's the blood tests I'm worried about…shit I hadn't even thought about that."

Once again turning towards Claudette he saw his own fear mirrored in her expression. She shook her head as she said in a quiet voice,

"It's a fucking mess."

Before he could responded they both looked up as the door to the waiting room opened, they expected to see Aceveda returning but instead saw a nurse standing in the doorway.

"Hi I'm Nurse Martinez, Doctor Austin asked me to show you to the ICU when Detective Wagenbach was settled in."

They both stood and Vic found himself both eager to see Dutch and afraid to see him at the same time. He needed to reassure himself that he was still alive, that perhaps the decisions he had made earlier were indeed the right ones. That it was better for Dutch to be here in the ICU as opposed to downstairs in the basement, in the morgue. However, he remembered the pale, still, bruised face from what seemed to be days ago, but was in fact only hours ago, and felt a glimmer of reluctance deep within himself at having to face Dutch like that again. Vic pushed that reaction aside, he needed to see him and he needed to be there for Claudette. He reconciled himself with the thought that after this he could finally catch up with Shane and the rest of the Strike Team and find out if they'd learnt anything useful. He'd be able to focus on catching these two bastards and making them pay for what they'd done. He stepped out into the corridor after Claudette as the nurse held the door open for them and then fell into step with the two women as they walked towards the elevators.

"We're up on the forth floor." Nurse Martinez explained as they entered the elevator.

"How is he?" Claudette asked her.

The nurse smiled reassuringly at them as she answered.

"Oh he's doing very well. I'm sure Doctor Austin told you that he came through his operation well, and now that he's settled into the ICU all his vital signs are exactly as they should be. There was one thing we wondered about though?"

"What's that?" Vic asked.

"Well we've only got some of his details on his notes, things can get left out when it's an emergency admittance, and we were wondering what Detective Wagenbach's first name is. We like to connect with our patients, try to make them feel as calm and comfortable with us as possible, and that's a little difficult when we have to keep calling him Detective Wagenbach." She said with a smile.

"Dutch…his name's Dutch." Claudette told her, then explained when she saw the nurse's slightly skeptical look, "well everyone calls him Dutch it's his nickname really. His proper name's Holland, but he's not too fond of it. In fact I don't think I've ever heard him use it except when he has to, to give evidence in court or something."

"Well I'll be sure to write it down on his notes." The nurse told them just as the elevator stopped on the forth floor.

As they stepped out into the corridor they found themselves in front of an admittance desk similar to the one downstairs in the ER.

"Dutch's room is this way." Nurse Martinez told them as she led them beyond the desk and down a side corridor to the right.

As they approached the third door on the left they could see "Wagenbach" written on a card beside the closed door. The nurse paused and turned to them,

"You can both come in and see him for a while. I think Doctor Austin explained to you about what to expect?"

Both Claudette and Vic nodded.

"Yes, he told us about the machines, and…um…gave us an idea of what we'll see." Claudette told her.

"I thought so," the nurse smiled. "He's very good for that. Just to reiterate though it can be daunting to see someone you care about, a friend, like this and we understand that. Try to remember that everything here is helping Dutch and he's not in any pain or discomfort. If you've got any questions don't hesitate to ask, we're all happy to answer any queries you might have, ok?"

"Yeah." Vic told her, finding himself glancing from the nurse to the closed door nervously.

"Good," she smiled. "Remember to that it'll help Dutch if you talk to him, touch him and above all you must stay calm around him. It's surprising how patients can pick up on the feelings of others even if they seem to be deeply unconscious. So although you're going to find this difficult at first I'm sure, please try to remember that Dutch needs to be reassured and comforted. He needs to feel your presence but in a calming way."

At Claudette's and Vic's nods of understanding she reached forward to open the door.


	23. Trespass Chapter 23

Disclaimer: - I don't own any of the characters of The Shield, they all belong to Shawn Ryan and FX.

Trespass – Chapter 23.

The white room was larger then Vic had thought it would be when he stepped inside behind Claudette and nurse Martinez. However, his perusal of his surroundings came to an abrupt end when he ended up nearly running into Claudette's back when she suddenly stopped dead in her tracks. A little annoyed Vic stepped around her and then realised why she'd stopped so abruptly. In front of them seeming to be swamped by all kinds of bleeping, whooshing equipment lay Dutch. He was so pale he seemed to be almost one with the bed he was lying on, it was difficult to see where he ended and the white bedding began. Except for the bruises on his face he was completely drained of any pallor, although at least the stark whiteness was an improvement on the frightening grey hue his face had begun to take on just before the paramedics had shown up back at his house. Vic looked at Claudette, who stood beside him and who still hadn't moved. Her face was one of complete and utter shock, only the night before she'd said goodbye to her partner as he'd left work and now here he was lying in a hospital and despite the doctor's reassurances he looked at death's door. Vic reached out towards her, pausing slightly because he wasn't sure if she would welcome his touch, but he laid his hand gently on her arm nevertheless. He hoped he could convey his silent support to her. He was relieved when she tore her gaze away from Dutch and turning towards him she smiled a slight, sad smile of acknowledgement. 

Meanwhile nurse Martinez moved forward towards the bed letting them gather themselves and in a cheery voice that somehow sounded out of place in the solemn surroundings of the ICU room said,

"Hello Dutch it's Inez, I told you I wouldn't be gone for long. I brought two of your friends to see you. I'm just going to check that everything's ok then they can come and sit with you."

Turning back towards Vic and Claudette as she busied herself checking the readings on the various machines around Dutch she told them,

"I'm sure Doctor Austin told you that even though Dutch is sedated at the moment we'd like to promote interaction with him. So as well as you speaking to him the staff also like to keep him informed about what's happening to him, what we're going to be doing."

With that she once again addressed the unmoving Dutch,

"Everything is fine Dutch, I'm just going to note down some readings on your chart and then I'll go and get your friends a cup of coffee, they look like they could use one."

As she picked up a clipboard of papers from the end of Dutch's bed and began to write she motioned to Vic and Claudette to come closer. Smiling reassuringly she gestured to the chairs by Dutch's bedside,

"Please sit down and I'll get you that coffee."

Slowly moving forward to stand by the bed Claudette looked at the nurse,

"Thank you nurse Martinez."

"No problem, and please call me Inez."

With that she was gone, leaving Vic and Claudette standing over Dutch's prone figure. Claudette slowly sank down into one of the chairs while Vic stayed standing staring down at Dutch his mind a whirl of conflicting emotions. He wanted, no needed to be here, but another part of him wanted to run, get away from this room with it's silent unmoving occupant, disinfectant hospital smells and unfamiliar mechanical noises. All that guilt that seemed to be moving through his gut like a living thing seemed to be suffocating him. The pounding in his head intensified and for a moment he felt light-headed. Suddenly he felt a hand on his arm and Claudette's concerned voice,

"Are you alright Vic? Here sit down before you fall down."

Unable to protest Vic let her drag him down into the chair next to her. He took a deep steadying breath as he reached up a shaky hand and wiped away beads of cold sweat from his forehead.

"Jesus," he said his voice as shaky as his hand. "This is all my fault…you were right Claudette I should have done something. Instead I just stood there and let them…let them…God he asked me for help you know and I did nothing…and then I…I became as bad as those perverts. He'll never forgive me will he?"

Claudette was stunned by the amount of pain and bitter self-hatred she heard in Vic's voice. He always seemed so sure of himself, so in control, the alpha wolf of the Strike Team pack, but now he sounded lost. All the anger she'd felt for him evaporated in that moment,

"Dutch won't blame you Vic, I know it and…and I don't blame you either." She told him.

He turned to her searching out her eyes, the uncertainty in his voice sounding foreign and out of place,

"You don't…even though you know what I did…how I hurt him?"

"It wasn't you it was them and they need to pay for what they did." She replied.

Vic looked at her intensely and said,

"Maybe we should have this conversation outside?"

Claudette nodded and then turned back to the quiet man in the bed beside them. Hesitantly she reached out one hand and gently took Dutch's right hand in hers, squeezing his fingers hoping he knew she was there. Vic watched her hand in Dutch's and then looked up at his face. It was relaxed in its drug-induced slumber; his brown hair was tousled and made him appear younger then when he was awake and alert. Vic frowned at the tube that was inserted into Dutch's mouth and down his throat and dropping his gaze to Dutch's chest watched as it moved up and down in time to the rhythm produced by the ventilator the tube was attached to. At least he looked peaceful, blissfully unaware of what was going on around him. Vic knew that that would change when he regained consciousness, then the true extent of the damage that had been caused by those animals, and he sadly acknowledged despite what Claudette or Aceveda had told him, himself would become obvious. Looking down to Claudette's hand holding Dutch's once more he saw her rubbing her thumb over Dutch's knuckles, then leaning forward she quietly said,

"I'll be back in a minute son, I'm just stepping outside I'm not leaving you."

Then with a final squeeze of his hand she let go and turned to Vic,

"We need to talk."

Nodding Vic stood up and moved aside for Claudette to move past him towards the door. He paused before he moved away and held out a hesitant hand towards Dutch's forehead, but hastily withdrew it as if he thought his touch would somehow burn the other man. Sighing he turned and followed Claudette to the door.


	24. Trespass Chapter 24

Disclaimer: - I don't own any of the characters of the Shield, they all belong to Shawn Ryan and FX.

Trespass – Chapter 24.

Vic softly closed the door to Dutch's room and joined Claudette where she stood waiting for him by the open door to an empty room next to Dutch's. She seemed to search his face expectantly for a moment and then apparently satisfied with what she found there she nodded to herself and said in a quiet tone,

"You're going after them yourself aren't you?"

Vic paused unsure of how to respond. He knew that Claudette usually disapproved of his methods and so he was hesitant as to how to reply to her question. Her face betrayed no emotion to give him a clue as to her thoughts on the matter. He decided to test out the waters, so to speak, and replied,

"It's Westwood's investigation, Lehane and Gregory's case."

Claudette snorted in contempt when he mentioned the two Westwood detective's names,

"Neither of those two could find their ass with a map and instructions!"

Vic had to repress a laugh at her words, but he also agreed with her assessment of their abilities. He also had his suspicions that they weren't exactly fired up over the case. He had thought he'd detected a certain derisory tone to their voices when they'd spoken to him. An attitude of prejudice that he'd stamped on with the uniform at Dutch's house previously, but which he knew he was going to have to face once he returned to The Barn. Gossip as juicy as people were going to find this case would spread like wildfire through the department, as he'd told Shane earlier, by tonight the whole city would know about it. Then by the time it had been through the process of Chinese Whispers, the details distorted and exaggerated who knew how bad it would be. At least this was where he could start his redemption towards Dutch. It would be weeks before Dutch returned to work, returned to face people, by then Vic would have made sure that the rumor mill had been well and truly crushed. He'd make sure that everyone would know that if they so much as looked at Dutch in the wrong way, let alone said anything to him to upset him they'd have him to deal with and he'd be pissed. 

Returning his attention to Claudette he was still a little wary,

"Aceveda won't let me near the case, a conflict of interest you know that."

Looking at him Claudette leaned in towards him lowering her voice even more,

"Don't take me for stupid Vic. I'd bet a month's pay that you've got your boys out on the street right now trying to dig up any information they can about those two pieces of scum."

Vic paused before he nodded,

"I called Shane after I'd spoken to you on the phone."

Claudette smiled a humourless smile and said,

"I thought so…well I want in."

Not sure what she meant Vic cautiously asked her,

"In on what?"

"Getting those two of course…making them pay for what they did to Dutch."

Vic still wasn't prepared to tip his hand as he said,

"I thought you didn't approve of vigilante cops Claudette."

She pulled away from him slightly, leaning back against the wall behind her. She briefly turned away from him and then turning back again Vic could see a steely determination in her eyes as she said,

"I don't…I didn't… but damn it Vic this is different. That's Dutch in there, my partner…one of us. What those bastards did to him…they need to pay."

Playing devil's advocate for the moment Vic replied,

"They'll go to trial, go away for a long time."

Shaking her head Claudette said firmly,

"No that's not enough and you know it Vic. They get some fancy lawyer out to make a name for himself who'll get them off on some trumped up technicality and they walk, you've seen it happen as many times as I have. What'll that do to Dutch…having to give evidence in court…the details of what they did to him spread over the front page of every newspaper from here to New York. Christ knows he's going to be an emotional mess anyway he doesn't need that on top of everything else. We need to protect him from that Vic…you need to protect him."

She stared into his eyes defying him to contradict her. He had no intention of doing that knowing she was absolutely right. He held her gaze and replied with the same level of determination in his voice as had been in hers,

"Don't worry it won't come to that. I'll see to it that it doesn't…Dutch isn't going to have to stand up in court and tell the world what they did to him…what I did to him…I swear."

Claudette nodded; satisfied that Vic's word could be trusted,

"I want to help." She told Vic.

Vic shook his head at her,

"No Claudette…I get to clean up this mess, you keep clear."

"He's my partner Vic, I've got the right and you know it."

Seeing the determination on her face Vic knew he had to stand firm,

"I'm sorry Claudette but no…leave this to me…trust me. You're right Dutch is your partner and because of that he needs you here with him, helping him get better not out trawling through the shit looking for those pigs."

For a moment he thought she was going to argue with him, but then she nodded her agreement and said,

"Let me know how it's going though, and if you need anything…and I mean anything Vic let me know ok?"

Relaxing Vic nodded,

"Yeah I will."

Suddenly Claudette straightened up,

"We've got company." She hissed.

Turning Vic saw Aceveda coming towards them.

"How is he… have you been in to see him?" He asked them.

"He looks awful, but the nurse said he's doing well so…" Claudette told him.

"Why are you out here?" Aceveda asked his voice puzzled.

"Vic was just leaving… I just wanted to make sure everything was straightened out between us. You were right Captain I just needed to get some perspective to see Vic wasn't to blame for what happened to Dutch." 

Aceveda looked pleased at Claudette's words,

"Good I'm glad you've gotten everything sorted out between the pair of you, Dutch is going to need all of us working together for him."

"Yes we've realised that haven't we Vic?"

"Absolutely." Vic assured Aceveda.

"Great…I… ah…I called The Chief he's on his way to the hospital now. I also called to find out Dutch's next of kin, it seems he still had his ex-wife listed…I called her but she wasn't interested…she said to make sure that her name was taken off his records." He told them.

"Dutch said she had issues." Claudette said.

"Well I don't suppose you know anything about his family Claudette?" Aceveda asked.

Shaking her head Claudette told him,

"Not really he doesn't talk about them much…well hardly at all. I think he had some kind of falling out with his father or something and he doesn't have anything to do with them anymore. The only thing I really know is they still live in Nebraska and his father's a lawyer or something."

"Ok never mind I'll sort it out later." Aceveda said.

Turning back to Vic he said,

"Are you alight Vic, you look a little pale?"

Seizing his chance Vic sighed for Aceveda's benefit and said,

"Actually I'm kinda tired…it's all catching up on me. I thought I'd call Shane and ask him to pick me up...if that's ok with you?"

"Of course Vic that's fine, but I don't want you going into The Barn today alright? You need to get some rest."

"Yeah no problem I think I'll spend the day asleep." Vic told him.

At this point Claudette stepped into the conversation,

"Would you like to see Dutch Captain?" She asked. "I don't want to leave him alone for too long."

As she spoke she moved back towards Dutch's door.

"Of course." Aceveda said. Then turning back to Vic he added. "Make sure you get some rest Vic."

Taking that as his cue to leave Vic began to move away from them, turning to say,

"Yeah I sure will."

Satisfied Aceveda opened Dutch's door and stepped inside. Claudette paused before following him and looking at Vic she nodded to him and then turned and entered the room.

As he walked towards the main desk and the elevators Inez came towards him carrying the promised coffees.

"Are you leaving?" She asked. "I was just bringing your coffee."

"I...ah I've got some stuff to take care of, but Claudette is still with Dutch and our Captain's just turned up. I'm sure they'd both appreciate some coffee."

Smiling Inez said,

"Of course, take care and I hope we'll see you back soon the more visitors Dutch gets the better."

"Yeah I'll be back when I can." He told her turning towards the elevator and stepping inside. 


	25. Trespass chapter 25

Disclaimer: - I don't own any of the characters of The Shield, they all belong to Shawn Ryan and FX.

Trespass – Chapter 25.

As Vic stepped out of the hospital into the bright sunshine he felt his headache crank up a notch or two and squinting he reached into his trousers pocket for his sunglasses, and cursed to himself when he realised that they were back at Dutch's house. So walking over to a piece of shade by the hospital entrance he pulled out his phone and dialed Shane's number. After a couple of rings he heard Shane's voice,

"Vendrell."

"Shane it's me I'm at the hospital, King/Drew on South Wilmington, and I need you to come pick me up." Vic told him.

"Sure boss I'm on my way. Are you ok? What about Dutch is he all right? Well I guess he's not…um …you know all right but…um…shit I still can't believe it."

Vic winced as Shane's words came pouring into his ear. Shit sometimes the guy just talked too much. Cutting in Vic said,

"Look I'm fine just a headache. What about your friend over at Westwood have you spoken to him yet?"

"Oh yeah Tom…um not yet I've left a couple of messages for him to call me so it won't be long. I did what you told me, Lem and Ronnie have been out rolling the shitheads outta their beds." Shane told him.

"Hear anything?" Vic asked.

"No not yet… but we'll find 'em boss."

"Oh damn right we will. Look my battery's low I'm out by the main entrance ok?"

"Ok Vic I'll be there in ten minutes." Shane said before Vic closed his phone.

With a sigh Vic leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. He could feel what little strength he had left beginning to drain out of him. He wondered absently how he had managed to keep going this long, adrenaline could only sustain a person for so long and Vic didn't think he had any left in his body. When Shane arrived he would get him to take him to Dutch's house. That way he could check up to see if the forensics team had finished up yet and grab a shower and a change of clothes. Then some strong coffee and some Tylenol too. He'd need to keep going for a few hours more and then even he had to admit he'd need to get some rest. Just an hour of sleep the night before and then all the anxiety, guilt and anger that had followed really had left him feeling more than a little shaky. Vic knew that to catch these two pricks he'd need to be on top of his game. Not only trying to find them, but avoiding stepping on Westwood's toes to do it and keeping under Aceveda's radar. Plus the team would have to keep up business as usual and that would mean still keeping on top of the streets. Making sure the scum knew who was boss. 

Vic straightened up and opened his eyes just in time to see a police department black Navigator with Shane at the wheel pulling into a parking space across from where he stood. Forcing himself to stand a little taller, a little straighter Vic strolled across to the car. As he climbed into the passenger seat he couldn't miss the concerned look Shane was giving him,

"Damn Vic you look like shit." Shane told him.

"Yeah well thanks I try you know." Vic replied sarcastically.

To be honest he could really do without conversation at this moment, but knowing Shane he doubted he'd be getting much peace. So relaxing into the seat of the Navigator he said,

"I need to get a change of clothes and catch a shower so drop me off at Dutch's house, and I can see what forensics have come up with at the same time. It's 1310 Hoover Street."

"Yeah sure…are you sure you're ok Vic you really do look like crap?" Shane asked as he backed the Navigator out of the parking space and headed for the main road.

"Yeah I'm fine. Bastards cracked me over the head with the butt of a gun. I was out for a few minutes that's all."

Shane nodded and Vic was glad that he'd decided to drop the subject, accepting Vic's assurances. However, he knew what Shane's next question would be, and sure enough after a couple of minutes of silence Shane glanced across at him and, sounding both curious and embarrassed, asked,

"How's Dutch then…I mean after…well after that…he must be…um…well you know…"

Deciding to put Shane out of his misery and because he couldn't stand listening to him "uming" and "ahing" his way around the subject Vic told him,

"He's in the ICU unconscious and on a ventilator. They had to remove his spleen because he had internal bleeding and…well the doctor said he'd recover so…. Look Shane I don't want to talk about it ok."

"Oh yeah I understand." Shane said, thankfully finally keeping quiet.

Vic turned away and leaning his throbbing head back against the headrest of his seat he gazed out of the window. He felt so tired and suddenly numb, although he looked out of the window he didn't actually see anything that passed by and was surprised when he heard Shane say,

"We're here boss."

Blinking rapidly for a moment to clear the fog out of his brain he realised they were parked outside of Dutch's house. There were two black and whites parked near them and the path up to Dutch's house was blocked off with yellow "police line do not cross" tape. Parked in the driveway behind Vic's car was the forensic team's SUV. Vic was pleased they were still there, it meant he should be able to find out if they'd discovered anything yet, he doubted they'd have gotten any results back yet but maybe he'd be lucky. Turning towards Shane as he opened the door he said,

"Thanks Shane. I need you to get onto that friend of yours and see if Lem and Ronnie have turned anything up. Aceveda's told me I'm not supposed to show my face in the Barn today, and I don't want him getting suspicious and poking his nose where it doesn't belong so I'll give you a call and we'll meet up later at your place ok?"

"No problem…are you going to be all right?" Shane asked as Vic climbed out of the car.

"I'll be fine just take care of this for me Shane." Vic snapped.

He hadn't meant to speak so harshly to Shane. He knew Shane was only worried about him but he was tired, mentally and physically drained, and he didn't have the energy to deal with Shane's anxiety right now. However, he looked back at him before he closed the car door and in a conciliatory tone said,

"Sorry Shane it's just been a tough couple of hours you know?" 

Nodding his understanding once more Shane said,

"I know it's ok…don't worry about it. I'll speak to you later."

"Yeah I'll call." Vic assured him stepping away from the car.

Vic stood watching the Navigator as it drove down the street and disappeared around the corner. Taking a deep breath he focused his attention on the task at hand. He walked towards the house, ducking under the police tape and ignoring the curious stares from Dutch's neighbours, some of whom were watching the police activity from their front lawns while others tried to be more subtle and stared out from behind their twitching curtains. As he neared the open front door a uniformed officer stepped out,

"Can I help you?" He asked.

Vic flashed him his badge, watching as the officer's attitude immediately relaxed.

"I was here last night. I'm staying in the spare room and I needed a change of clothes are you guy's are nearly finished?" Vic asked.

He forced himself to ignore the speculative glance the uniform gave him. Vic wondered how much he knew about what had happened here, how many of the gory details were already common knowledge. Stepping back out of Vic's way so he could enter the house the policeman told him,

"Forensics are just packing up their stuff and then it's all yours."

Nodding Vic moved to the base of the stairs and glancing up he could hear the voices of the forensics personnel as they prepared to leave.

"I'll just go up then." 

The cop just shrugged and turned away moving down the hallway towards the kitchen. Vic went upstairs and moved towards Dutch's bedroom where the sounds of conversation were coming from. As he neared the bedroom door he could feel his heartbeat getting faster, a cold sweat broke out on his forehead and as he reached out to push the door open he was shocked to see that his hand was shaking. Pausing for a moment Vic mentally chastised himself and with an effort pushed his physical reactions aside and pushing open the door he stepped into the room. For a second he was bombarded with a whole gamut of images and emotions and he felt as if the world was sliding away from him. He ruthlessly shoved the feelings aside and fought to steady himself. Then a voice broke though to him and dragged him back into the present,

"I said can I help you!"

Vic found himself face to face with a puzzled looking forensics technician and clearing his throat he quickly flashed her his badge,

"Detective Mackey have you found anything useful yet?" He asked the woman.

"It's a little early yet Detective." She told him turning back to her colleagues, rolling her eyes at them.

Stamping down on his annoyance Vic had to grit his teeth as he smiled at her and said,

"I realise that but I just thought you might have something to tell me."

After regarding him for a second the woman sighed and said,

"Well we've got blood and semen samples from the bedding and the carpet. Of course we won't be able to separate out what's the victim's and what's the perpetrator's until we get back to the lab, then we'll start to run the DNA tests. There's fingerprints to be run through the computer and we've taken some hair and fibre samples. Basically I can't tell you anything until we get back to the lab. Look I already told your buddies this, what are their names…. Gregory and um…" She looked at Vic for help.

"Lehane." He supplied.

"Yeah that's it Lehane. Don't you guys talk to each other or something?" She asked.

The others in the room chuckled and smirked slightly as they began to file past him out of the room, taking their bags of equipment and samples with them.

"You know how it is sometimes." Vic replied.

She snorted in derision and began to follow her colleagues from the room before pausing for a second and turning back to Vic,

"Oh yeah you could do me a favour. When you seen the other two super-sleuths tell them I sent someone over to the hospital."

Frowning Vic asked,

"The hospital?"

"Christ you really don't talk to each other do you it's a miracle any crimes get solved." The technician said in disgust. "They told me the victim had been bitten during the attack so I said I'd send someone over to take a cast of the bite."

Vic winced at her words and had to suppress a wave of nausea that passed through him. Looking at him the technician's eyes softened slightly as she noted his reaction,

"Yeah poor guy…Look I'll get onto these straight away, get the results as fast as I can ok?"

Vic mumbled his thanks and watched as she joined her colleagues as they made their way downstairs and out of the house. Vic glanced quickly around the now silent room and with a shudder followed them. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs and found the cop he'd spoken to earlier waiting for him.

"We're all done here so can we leave you to secure the property?" He asked Vic.

"Yeah sure no problem."

Suddenly the front door was closed and Vic found himself alone in the now empty, silent house. He slowly sank down until he was sitting on the stairs and lowered his head into his hands.


	26. Trespass Chapter 26

Disclaimer: -I don't own any of the characters of The Shield, they all belong to Shawn Ryan and FX.

Trespass – Chapter 26. 

Vic wasn't sure how much time had passed as he sat at the bottom of the stairs his aching head in his hands. Eventually though he knew he had to move and with a weary sigh he stood and turned to walk to the kitchen. Once there he crossed to the fridge and opening the door peered in until he spotted a couple of bottles of water. He took one and uncapping it took a long drink of the cool liquid. He put the nearly empty bottle down and turned to look at the back door, the point of entry for the perps. The door and its glass panes were now covered in fingerprint dust, as was the key that sat in the lock. Vic walked forward, reached out and turned the key locking the door. Then he removed the key from the lock and placed it on top of the fridge. He felt a sudden flare of anger rise up within him. Jesus, how could Dutch be so stupid. With their job they got to see the worst of human nature on a regular basis. They got to see the horrors that one human being could inflict upon another. Yet here in his own home Dutch had no alarm system, and he left the door key in place so all it had taken was one smashed pane of glass and those animals had been in the house. All of this could have been prevented if Dutch had just had a grain of common sense, if he'd been more careful. Vic growled out loud,

"Christ what a fucking idiot…Jesus this was just asking for trouble!"

Then he stopped as he realised what he'd said, what he'd been thinking? Was he going to conform to the old prejudice, that somehow the victim, Dutch, had been "asking for it"? Was he blaming Dutch now for what had happened? Shaking his head Vic bent down and began to carefully pick up the pieces of broken glass from the floor. He realised that yeah he was a little pissed at Dutch for being so careless about his own security, his own safety. However, he was also pissed at himself for not doing anything to help him. He was pissed at the shitty attitude he could already see forming with the investigating officers. He was pissed at those two fucking bastards who thought they had some kinda right to break in here, use Dutch, and he had to admit himself, for their own perverted pleasure. To cause misery, heartache and pain just to satisfy their own selfish twisted desires. Also Vic realised he was just really pissed off at the world in general that let shit like this happen. That let people like those sick fucking bastards hurt someone like Dutch.

After putting the broken glass in the bin Vic stared at the broken pane. Somehow he didn't think Dutch was the Do It Yourself type, and so doubted he'd find many tools or wood to fix the hole with. He couldn't wait around today for someone to fix it so after a moment's thought, and a search through the kitchen drawers, he ended up ten minutes later staring at the back of a Cornflakes packet which was taped over the hole. It would do for now, and he grimaced when he thought that at least no one could reach in and just unlock the door. Unwilling to enter into that train of thought again Vic picked up the nearly empty bottle of water and trudged up the stairs. He went into the bathroom and in the cabinet above the sink he found a bottle of Tylenol. After taking several and washing them down with the last of the water he collected some clean clothes from his room and quickly stripping off got into the shower. Vic turned the temperature up as high as he could bear it and stood with his face turned towards the shower head, letting the hot spray of water bombard his tired, aching body.

As the hot water ran over his body and swirled away down the drain Vic could feel the heavy lethargy that had begun to descend on him swirling away with it. He reached out for the soap and began to scrub his body clean. He scrubbed harder and longer than usual, trying to wash away the negative feelings and emotions that he felt the events of the previous hours had left imprinted on his body, ingrained into his flesh. He tried to visualize all those negative emotions, the ones that would distract him, make him weak, swirling away down the drain with the soapy water. He wanted to wash away the guilt, the regret, the self-loathing and disgust, the self-pity, the fear, the horror at the thought he'd become something he hated, a rapist. No matter what Aceveda had tried to tell him earlier he felt he couldn't shake that stain from his soul. As he scrubbed at his body willing all those emotions away he barely felt the tears that ran down his face, merging with the water and which were also swirled away.

When he finally finished Vic stepped out of the shower and began to dry himself. He felt stronger, his mind clearer, more himself. He wasn't sure if he had truly exorcised himself of those unwanted emotions or, as he suspected, he'd merely managed to push them deep down within himself. However, all he felt burning within himself now were those emotions he knew he'd need now to get the job done. He could feel the ice cold burn of his hatred, a raw anger, the need, the desire for revenge. He was going to get those two animals and make them suffer. He was going to do it for Dutch, for Claudette and for himself. If he was going to be able to keep those negative emotions at bay then he knew he would need to do this. He felt as if it would be his personal salvation, and he needed to focus his whole being on it. He had to know that he'd done everything possible to ensure that those two creatures would never get the chance to hurt anyone else the way they'd hurt Dutch. He didn't doubt for a second that they'd do it again, maybe that they'd done it before. However, he knew that this would be the last time. Dutch was going to be their last victim, because they'd made a fatal error. They'd gotten onto Vic Mackey's radar and as he'd told that piece of shit loan shark Manny Sandoval after the mess with the Cupid crystal meth, that was never a good thing.


	27. Trespass Chapter 27

Disclaimer: - I don't own any of the characters of The Shield, they all belong to Shawn Ryan and FX.

Trespass – Chapter 27.

Vic lay in bed and stared up at the ceiling. It had been two days since the attack, and he was no closer to catching those two sick pricks. Westwood were completely fucking hopeless, and he was sure if he had to see those two smarmy dicks, Gregory and Lehane, again he'd probably be forced to kill them.

He'd gone back to The Barn yesterday for the first time, and what a joyous experience that had been. As he'd walked in it had reminded him of a scene from an old-fashioned Western. The moment when a stranger walks into the saloon and everyone falls silent and stares. It had answered his question as to how much of that night's events had become general knowledge. The looks he got ranged from pity, disgust, embarrassment and amusement, and pretty much everything in between. He'd been relieved to get to the Clubhouse, and shut the door on everybody. He'd not enjoyed the feelings that had welled up within him at that point, the wish to hide. It just wasn't him. Vic Mackey didn't hide from anybody, and he didn't let what people thought about him get in his way either. At that moment he'd vowed that it would be the last time he hid himself away, and so it had proven. For the rest of that day, and for today, he'd made sure he'd held his head up high, and carried on as if nothing had changed. He'd noticed a couple of times that whispered conversations would cease as soon as he appeared, and a few jerks avoided him, but that was their problem he decided. On the whole it seemed as if most people took their cue from him, and quickly settled down, and tried to act as normally as possible.

Danny had been the only person to directly ask him about the attack, but of course they had a history together. She'd wanted to know how he was, how Dutch was, if there was anything she could do, and to let him know she was there if he needed anything. He'd answered her questions, and thanked her for her offer of help. However, he'd been glad when she'd left. The pity and concern in her eyes pissing him off. Jesus, he wasn't broken, he wasn't in need of "tea and sympathy". What he needed was to exact some payback, but at the moment that didn't look likely.

There was nothing out on the street. Whoever those two pricks were they at least had the sense to keep their mouths shut, they weren't bragging. Forensics had been a bust too. They had no fingerprint or DNA matches. That could mean that it had been the first time they had carried out an attack like the one him and Dutch had suffered, but somehow Vic doubted it. They had seemed too cocky, too in control, as if they'd done it before. Of course considering the nature of the attack it was possible that any previous victims had failed to report it. God knows how many women failed to report rape. Afraid of not being believed. Afraid of the stigma, and feeling ashamed. Afraid to face the whole grueling justice system. So when he thought about it, how many men must there also be who wouldn't file a report if they'd been raped. Would Dutch have done so Vic wondered, if he'd been alone that night, if Vic hadn't been there? Sure Dutch was a cop and so should feel obliged to "do the right thing", plus Vic always thought he was a bit of a Boy Scout, an everything-by-the-book kinda guy. Still if he'd been alone, if they hadn't beaten him as badly as they had done, what would he have done? Would he have called in sick for a week, and then tried to carry on as if nothing had happened, letting it eat away at him from the inside? Is that what other men were doing? Vic was convinced that was the case, and fuck it he wanted to get to those two before someone else had to carry that horrible secret around with them for the rest of their lives.

He wondered how they'd chosen Dutch as their target. Now he thought about it the gunman who'd entered the spare room, and woken him up, had seemed surprised to find him there. What was it he'd said to his friend,

"Looky here we've got two for the price of one."

Maybe they'd been expecting to find Dutch alone in the house. If that was the case then how did they know he lived on his own? Had they been stalking him? If they had maybe Dutch had noticed something? If he had he hadn't mentioned it to Claudette; else she would have said something after the attack. There again Dutch always struck Vic as the kind of guy who'd bottle things up; he always seemed a little uptight. So maybe he had noticed something and had kept his worries to himself. Well it wasn't as if Vic could ask him. He spoken to Claudette a couple of hours ago, when she'd called him to find out if there had been any progress in finding the perps, Vic winced inwardly as he remembered the disappointment in her voice when he'd had to tell her that they were still looking. According to Claudette Dutch was still unconscious, still in the ICU on a ventilator. However, he'd been relieved to hear that the doctors were pleased with his progress, and that hopefully they'd be stepping down the sedation in a couple of days, and weaning him off the ventilator as planned. Once that happened Dutch would slowly begin to regain consciousness, and Vic wanted to be able to tell him, when he did, that those two bastards would never be bothering anyone again. He didn't think he'd be able face Dutch until he could assure him of that. Vic began to think that if he could figure out why they'd chosen Dutch, perhaps it would lead him to those sick pricks, and he could have his retribution. Sighing Vic turned over and closed his eyes, if he didn't get some sleep he would be good for nothing tomorrow and he still had plenty to do.

*

__

God this felt so good. Every nerve ending in his body was ablaze. His skin tingled everywhere those hands touched him, everywhere that long lithe body moved against him. The willing body under him squirmed and thrust up against his body. Breathy moans of pleasure were exhaled against his neck sending a shiver of desire racing through him. He could feel himself thrusting steadily into that hot, tight, velvety heat. The body under him arching up to met each thrust, willing him to penetrate as deeply as he could, to posses as completely as he could. He could feel the exquisite building of his own release, rushing through his veins like liquid fire. It was so close he felt himself teetering upon the precipice, the anticipation of his orgasm heightening the experience. He could feel those long fingered hands running down his back, skimming over his sensitized flesh. They moved around pressing against his chest, the passion filled, unintelligible moans becoming louder. He could feel himself letting go, his orgasm rushing through him gathering pace, overwhelming him. The release was so sweet, so intense for a moment he was totally consumed by it. Then as the high began to subside he became aware of those hands against his chest; he became aware of the words that had replaced those sexually charged moans of pleasure. The hands weren't exploring his body; they were trying to push him away. The body under him was no longer arching up against him seeking contact; it was trying to cringe away from him. The voice that had been expressing it's wordless encouragement, it's pleasure, was now brokenly chanting one word over and over again, "…no, no, no, no, no…" Startled he looked down to see a bruised face with wide, tear-filled eyes staring back at him. Those eyes were filled with fear and betrayal.

*

With a cry of horror Vic woke up covered in sweat, the sticky dampness in his underwear telling him how intense an experience the dream had been. That final image, the fear and betrayal in those eyes, in Dutch's eyes, combined with the evidence of his pleasure made the gorge rise up in Vic's throat, and he barely made it to the bathroom in time before he was violently sick.

Rising shakily from his position kneeling in front of the toilet after the dry heaving finally stopped. Vic turned on the shower and without even pausing to remove his shorts he climbed in and tried to wash away all traces of his body's betrayal. He peeled the wet material away from his body leaving them in a heap on the shower stall floor as he vigorously soaped and scrubbed himself.

Even though he'd stayed in the shower, washing himself until the water had turned icily cold, Vic still felt dirty, contaminated. Contaminated by his own guilt, by the nagging fear and self-doubt that maybe something fundamental in his character had been uncovered by the events of that awful night. Maybe there was a monster lurking deep within himself, some twisted creature that he'd unknowingly repressed, but which had been awoken by the events he'd witnessed, by that act of cruelty he'd been forced to take part in. Was that dream a warning from his sub-conscious that he'd been infected by some insidious, evil perversion? Knowing he couldn't face going back to bed, he couldn't risk being caught up in that dream, that nightmare, again he made his way downstairs to the kitchen and made himself some very strong coffee. Leaning back against the edge of a cupboard Vic stared at the memo board fixed to the wall next to the back door. Trying to take his mind off the morbid thoughts that were trying to crowd into his head he read the few things pinned to it. A half finished shopping list, a reminder that it was Suzie's birthday in two days time, Vic wondered who Suzie was, a dry cleaning ticket for two suits that should have been picked up yesterday, and a couple of business cards. Gazing closer to read the small print on the cards one was for a local garage, one was for a computer repair firm, and the last one was for some guy who repaired washing machines. Next to this card was another of those notes Dutch had written to himself as a reminder, just like for the mysterious Suzie's birthday. This one simply read "coming to fix w m on 13th at 10a.m." Today was the 26th and since Vic had used the washing machine yesterday evening he guessed Dutch had merely forgotten to take the reminder down. He reached out to tear it down and put it in the trash when he paused, and gazed first at the note and then to the business card. The gunmen had seemed to know Dutch lived on his own, they'd seemed surprised to find Vic there. Glancing at the now fixed back door he realised they'd known how to gain access to the house, seemed to know there was no alarm system. Looking back at the business card Vic reached out and pulled out the red pin that held it in place, and looked down at the name and address on it, Tom Prescott, 624, Greenfield Road, Pasadena. Going over to the calendar, where he'd noticed before that Dutch had his shifts written up, the 13th was down as a day off, he'd obviously taken it off to wait in for this Prescott. The fact that he was on day shift all last week and for this week was written there plain as day for anyone who cared to look at it. So anyone who'd been in the house would be able to see at a glance when Dutch would be at work, and when he'd probably be at home. Utility workers, repairmen - well Vic thought we all tend to let them into our homes, and while they're working if they talk don't we tend to talk back trying to be friendly. Maybe even answering certain questions about who else lives with us without even noticing we're doing it. Putting down his coffee cup Vic looked at his watch 4:38 a.m., time to get his boys out of bed early, see what they could dig up about this Tom Prescott.


	28. Trespass Chapter 28

Disclaimer: - I don't own any of the characters of The Shield, they all belong to Shawn Ryan and FX.

Trespass Chapter 28.

Vic longed to be able to roll his shoulders to try and ease some of the tension from them, but he needed to remain still and quiet and focused. The past three days had been long and busy, finally bringing him to his goal. The research the team had carried out on Tom Prescott had proved pretty fruitless. The guy had nothing on him except a couple of parking tickets and a DUI from four years ago. Vic had stared at his driving license photo for hours, but hadn't felt any sense of recognition. Of course the perps had both worn ski masks, but even staring at Prescott's eyes, in the photo, Vic couldn't say one way or the other if he was one of them. Then they'd taken a trip to Pasadena, and settled in to observe his house, see the guy in the flesh. Some discrete questioning of his neighbours had uncovered a few interesting facts. He lived alone after a short and stormy marriage, which had been over for a couple of years, and his cousin from Georgia had been staying with him for about six months. This grabbed Vic's attention as he remembered the leader of the two men had had a Georgia accent. He shuddered as he remembered how he'd felt that bastard's warm breath against his ear as he'd leaned in filling Vic's mind with his perverted, poisonous words. Telling him how much he'd enjoyed raping Dutch, insinuating that Vic had been turned on by it, insinuating that he wanted to rape him too. Vic heard that voice in his dreams, whispering those same hateful words to him out of the dark. Although he didn't like to admit it, even to himself, but Vic would listen to Shane speak and find a shiver going down his spine just from the sound of his voice. He had to keep stopping himself from telling Shane to shut up every time the poor guy opened his mouth to say anything.

Although the circumstantial evidence had seemed strong it had been his first sighting of the two men that had convinced Vic. It had been the evening during their first day of observation when Lem had nudged him awake from a light doze, and indicated the house. As Vic had looked he'd felt his hackles rise and his blood run cold in his veins. He didn't need to see their faces. Their build, their body language, just the way they moved, and he knew, without a doubt he knew, these were the two. The two fucking sick animals who'd caused so much hurt. He watched them laughing as they got into Prescott's car and drove off together. Vic had stared after their car as it drove away, watching the two red taillights disappearing into the gathering darkness. Lem had wanted to know if he should follow them, but Vic had wanted to case the house, a plan already beginning to form in his mind.

Now everything was in place and his plan was about to come to fruition. Unfortunately he'd had to shelve his original plan for revenge. One which had involved an abandoned warehouse, castration with a blunt, rusty knife and rats, lots of hungry rats. As satisfying as that scenario was Vic knew he'd have to be rather more subtle if he wanted to give Dutch any peace of mind. As well as his own deep-seated need to be avenged against these perverted creatures, Vic also wanted to do this for Dutch. He wanted Dutch to know that there was no possibility of these two ever returning to hurt him again. He also wanted to spare Dutch from having to give a detailed statement. He didn't want him to have to go through what he'd gone through. Having to recount everything while those two idiots from Westwood wrote everything down, and judged him from their own narrow, bigoted, ignorant standpoint. If Vic went with his original dark plan for an almost Old Testament form of revenge he wouldn't be able to achieve either of these things. If Prescott and his cousin, Sam Tortora, simply disappeared there'd be nothing to link them to the attack. Then Dutch would be expected to give his statement, and would have to live the rest of his life always looking over his shoulder. Vic knew that for Dutch to have a chance at healing he'd have to be sure that there was no way that those two would be coming back. Also if Vic took them, and yet managed to implicate them in the attack, then he would be the first suspect in their disappearance. He knew that Aceveda had expressed his sympathy towards him, and had actually surprised Vic by his sincerity, but would he let a chance to nail Vic pass him by? Somehow, Vic doubted it, and was convinced that if Aceveda thought he could bring Vic down by implicating him in the two men's disappearance then he would. So Vic had had to come up with an alternative plan for exacting his revenge, his redemption. He could feel the tension in his body rising even more as he realised the moment was almost here. 

Trying to relax he smiled to himself as he realised he'd be in trouble with Aceveda tomorrow. After days of managing to avoid the Captain, he'd finally cornered Vic in the Clubhouse, and ordered him to see the department shrink. He'd refused Vic's assurances that it was unnecessary, and he'd told him it was mandatory, and he'd revoke his active duty status if he didn't comply. The first appointment had been about four hours ago, and Vic had blown it off to be here. He knew this would do his psyche more good then spending the next couple of months on a psychiatrists couch, looking at ink blots, talking about his childhood, or whatever other bullshit he'd have to put up with. Tomorrow he'd apologize to Aceveda, and meekly attend the required sessions, and tell the shrink whatever he wanted to hear to get a clean bill of health. Right now though he was going to cure his problems the best way he knew how, through actions not words. Vic turned his attention back to the matter at hand as he heard Ronnie approaching.

Without having to check Vic knew that in their own positions Lem and Shane were also readying themselves. They hadn't hesitated in supporting Vic when he'd outlined his plan to them. He'd told them he'd understand if they didn't want to get involved in what he had to do, and he'd been heartened when none of them had wanted to pull out. Clutching his gun tightly Vic listened as Ronnie spun Prescott a tale of wanting to hire him to repair his washer dryer. He even flashed Prescott the business card Vic had taken from Dutch's kitchen, telling him a friend had recommended him. Just as Prescott took the chain off his door, asking Ronnie which friend had recommended him, he was taken completely by surprise when three armed men rushed him. As Lem and Shane moved on through the house to secure Tortora, and Ronnie closed the door behind them, Vic shoved Prescott up against the wall. He had his forearm across Prescott's throat, and his gun pressed against his temple as he got right into his face, coldly smiled and said,

"Hello again asshole. Remember me?"

Vic watched in satisfaction as Prescott's face paled. His eyes widened in recognition and shock, and for one delicious moment Vic actually thought the pig was going to piss himself in fear. Oh yeah revenge was sweet Vic thought to himself, and felt the smile on his face widen.


	29. Trespass Chapter 29

Disclaimer: - I don't own any of the characters of The Shield, they all belong to Shawn Ryan and FX.

Author's Note: - I just wanted to say a big thank you to Anthea at this point. She has been a huge help to me whilst writing Trespass. Not only has she offered me fabulous feedback, but also constructive criticism, and marvelous suggestions, and whenever I have e-mailed her needing a sounding board for various ideas she has never failed to reply, and has sorted through my ramblings with infinite patience. It has been very remiss of me not to have thanked her before now, as it has for me not to have thanked several other people as well. Whipper, Susan, theraces, Mystic, Ann, Linda and Rumer thank you so much for not only continuing to read Trespass, but for mailing me to let me know what you think. It is very much appreciated. Ok I'll shut up now and get on with the story :-).

Trespass Chapter 29.

Vic sat in his car in the hospital car park and gazed at the building in front of him, a mosaic of concrete and glass. He knew he should get out of the car and go inside, but still he hesitated. His hands dropped from the steering wheel into his lap, and he tried to ignore the fact that they shook slightly. Leaning his head back against the headrest behind him he closed his eyes.

__

One arm twisted up, almost to breaking point, behind his back Vic marched Prescott down the hallway of the house, and into the living room where he could hear Shane and Lem's voices. Pushing Prescott into the room Vic turned to face Tortora.

He was pushed back against a wall, both Shane and Lem's weapons trained on him, and yet he was ignoring them, and was staring at Vic. There, on his face, was that same infuriating smirk as he'd had that night at Dutch's house.

"Well, well tough guy, I wasn't expecting to see you again." He drawled sounding amused. Then making a show of looking past Vic to the empty doorway behind him he said, "Aw, didn't you bring our little fuck toy along with you? Now we've broken him in for you don't you like to share him huh? And after we shared him with you too. Did you tell your friends here how much you enjoyed fucking his mouth? Almost as much as we enjoyed fucking his ass."

Vic moved forward with a snarl, and pulled his fist back, feeling a surge of satisfaction rush through him when he felt it impacting with the other man's flesh.

His eyes snapping open Vic took a deep breath, and he rubbed a hand down over his face as he finally opened the car door, and got out. Looking down at his reddened knuckles he remembered how he'd wanted to keep on smashing his fist into Tortora until he'd pulverized him. He'd wanted to keep on hitting him, and not stop. To pour out all his hatred through his fist, and transfer it into the other man, destroying him with it. However, that initial flare of satisfaction he'd felt had rapidly burnt itself out, and Vic had been able to pull himself back, rein himself in, and remember the plan.

__

Tortora was left gasping, bent over, an arm clasped around his stomach, when Vic made himself stop, and step back from him. Prescott was looking from Vic to his cousin with frightened eyes, and Vic was glad. Glad that he was afraid, he deserved to be.

Vic turned towards him, remembering how much Prescott had wanted his "turn" that night. He remembered how he'd made sure Vic kept his eyes open so he had to watch Dutch's suffering. He remembered how Prescott had raked his nails down Dutch's back as he'd raped him, and how he'd whooped it up and laughed when he'd finished.

Taking a step towards Prescott Vic couldn't help but curl his lip in contempt as he cringed away from him and whimpered,

"No…please don't…It was Sam…it was his idea…I didn't want to he made me…I swear."

"You lying bastard…" Vic said before he found himself interrupted by Tortora,

"Shut up Tom…I didn't force you to do anything…and you loved it just as much as I did. For fuck sake stop sniveling. What do you think he's gonna do huh?"

Vic turned back to Tortora, and found him smiling at him as he told Vic,

"You can't do fuck all to us. You're a cop. We read it in the paper." He nodded his head in the direction of some old newspapers piled up on a table in the corner, "You made page four, "Policeman injured during home invasion." He quoted, "You can't do anything to us tough guy cause you're cops. Man, it felt good though, knowing we'd gotten to fuck a cop. Oh, how is he by the way? Paper said he'd been taken to hospital…we weren't too rough on him were we?"

Christ, Vic had been dreading this. He walked through the hospital doors, and tried not to think back to the last time he'd been here. He tried not to remember the gamut of emotions that had been rushing through him then.

Walking to the elevators he got in one and pressed the button for the fourth floor, thankful that he was alone. He stared dully at the red numbers as they lit up, and darkened again, counting off his ascent to the ICU.

This wasn't how he was supposed to feel. He was supposed to be feeling vindicated, cleansed, instead he felt deflated and empty. True he'd rid himself of his rage, his thirst for revenge, but then he'd found himself hollow. Nothing had rushed in to fill the void inside him, and now it was as if that aching chasm was threatening to engulf him. Except that he knew it wouldn't. It wouldn't have time to do that, because there were a multitude of emotions waiting to fill that void within him. It was like an internal pressure was building, a dam about to burst, and when it did he knew it would release a maelstrom of thoughts and emotions, that he wasn't sure he'd be able to handle. That realisation frightened him somewhat.

He had hoped that all those negative emotions would miraculously be gone. The guilt, the self-loathing, the disgust at what he'd forced on Dutch, the anger at himself for, what he perceived as, his own weakness, he'd hoped they'd all been excised. However, they'd merely been suppressed, and he could feel them waiting to overwhelm him.

As the elevator doors opened and he stepped out he heard Claudette call his name. He'd phoned her to tell her he was coming to the hospital, and to tell her he had some news. He turned to face her, and had to suppress the urge to turn away again as she searched his face, a slight frown forming at what she saw there.

"The nurses are in with Dutch at the moment, he needs his dressings changed, but they should be finished soon. We can talk in the visitors room." Claudette said, indicating a room off to the left of the admittance desk.

Once inside the empty room Vic flopped down into a chair with a sigh. Indicating the machine in the corner Claudette asked,

"Do you want a coffee or anything?"

"Nah, I'm good." He replied, sounding anything but.

The silence between them stretched on for several minutes until Claudette asked in a quiet voice,

"Is it over…is it done?"

__

Vic smiled back at Tortora, a cold, bitter smile. He ignored Tortora's cruel words, determined not to let him bait him. Then he walked over to Prescott. As he stepped into his personal space, Prescott flinched, pressing himself back against the wall behind him. As Vic leant forward towards him a small whimper escaped his mouth, and he closed his eyes tightly shut. Vic slapped him hard across the face, and Prescott's frightened eyes snapped open and stared at him.

"Yeah that's right open your eyes asshole. You have to keep your eyes open, wouldn't want you to miss anything now would we? Do you remember how you made sure I kept my eyes open huh? Do you remember how you made sure I had to watch, made sure I didn't miss anything?"

Prescott's face was devoid of any colour, his mouth hanging slackly open, but he didn't speak, merely nodded dumbly at Vic's questions.

"Good I'm glad. See I remember everything you said too…every fucking word." Vic told him.

He slowly took a couple of steps back, and reached behind himself, to the small of his back. Out of the corner of his eye, off to his left, he could see Shane fidget, an intense, focused look on his face as he nodded, and muttered just loud enough for Vic to hear,

"Oh yeah man…do it."

Vic's fingers closed on the cold metal of the gun he had tucked into the waistband of his jeans. It was from his "emergency supply" of untraceable weapons that he kept hidden in the trunk of his car. It was the one he'd acquired to replace the gun he'd planted on Chaco Orozco to save Lem's ass when Lem had shot Chaco mistakenly thinking he was armed. Pulling the weapon Vic pointed it at Prescott, who grimaced and made a noise half whimper, half groan, and pressed himself back against the wall as if he somehow thought he could force his way back through it and escape. A sharp tang made Vic wrinkle his nose, and glancing down he saw that Prescott had finally lost control of his bladder, the front of his trousers darkening with urine.

Vic felt nothing as he pointed the gun at the terrified man. He'd thought he'd feel excitement, satisfaction, but instead he just felt cold and empty. His voice quiet, level, never wavering he told Prescott,

"Yeah I remember every fucking word you said to me you sick prick. Remember what you told me? If I didn't do what you wanted you were gonna make me watch while you killed him. Remember the words you used "blow his face off, splatter his brains all over the wall"? Well guess what? Payback's a bitch asshole."

Vic didn't hesitate as he squeezed the trigger, and turned Prescott's words against him.

Tom Prescott's brains did splatter all over the wall behind him. Blood fanning out so far up the wall it almost reached the ceiling. Little gleaming white fragments of skull were stuck to the wall by blood or the tattered pieces of scalp they adhered to.

Shane wordlessly stepped forward, and took the gun from Vic, and began to carefully clean off any fingerprints that might be on it. Meanwhile, Vic turned towards Tortora.

He wasn't smiling now. In fact, he just stared, open-mouthed, at the body of his cousin. Finally, finding his voice, he snapped his head around to face Vic,

"Oh fuck…oh fuck…Jesus what have you done? You…you can't do that…you're a cop. Christ man you're a cop…"

Stepping up to him, his left hand going around Tortora's throat, pushing his head back into the wall, Vic got so close to him he could feel the other man's panting breath on his face,

"Shut the fuck up you piece of shit. Did you think I was gonna arrest you huh? Lock you up in a nice warm cell. Then make my friend have to stand up in a courtroom, and describe what you did to him. Is that what you thought? Well surprise…you're fucking wrong. See he isn't gonna have to go through that, he isn't gonna have to look at you again, or fucking think about you, cause you're gonna be dead."

At that Tortora struggled briefly, but soon stopped when Vic squeezed harder on his throat. Vic continued,

"See it's gonna go down like this. You two pricks have some kinda falling out, don't know what about, and don't care. Anyway your cousin there pulls a knife on you."

Here Ronnie stepped forward, and handed Vic a carving knife that he'd fetched from the kitchen. Turning to look at it Vic then turned back, and smiled at Tortora, and said,

"Ah just like this one…Now where was I? Oh yeah…he pulls a knife and stabs you with it."

Vic felt the knife sinking into Tortora's stomach, slicing through flesh and muscle. Leaning all his weight against it Vic felt it sink into him up to the handle. He watched Tortora's face, his eyes just an inch from his own, as the blade sank inexorably deeper. Tortora's eyes widened with surprise, and pain, the only noise coming from his throat a gurgling sound. His hands briefly closed around Vic's hand where it held the knife, but he was already weakening, and after several ineffectual attempts to pull Vic's hand away they fell back to his sides.

Supporting more and more of Tortora's weight with the hand around his throat, and the knife buried in his gut, Vic finished telling him the scenario of his death,

"A knife in the guts, really fucking painful and slow. So you grab a gun, which will have your fingerprints all over it, and blow him away "splatter his brains all over the wall"." Then leaning in so close that he was whispering in the dying man's ear Vic told him,

"I promised you I was gonna find you, and kill you, and I always keep my promises you sick bastard."

Then releasing Tortora Vic stepped back and watched dispassionately as he slid down the wall and bled to death.

Vic didn't tell Claudette the details; she didn't need to know. However, he did say,

"We left a photo of Dutch there. It was a picture of him in uniform, his academy graduation portrait; I took it from his living room. We can say they must have taken it as a souvenir before they left the house. It'll tie them to the crime, and the fingerprints and DNA will do the rest."

Claudette nodded and asked,

"It was definitely them?"

"Oh yeah." Vic grimly confirmed, "Don't worry it was them."

"Good," Claudette said firmly, before adding, "You can never tell him Vic. You can never tell him what you did…what I agreed to you doing. Dutch wouldn't understand…he isn't…well he just wouldn't understand."

"Don't worry I wasn't planning on telling him anyway. He doesn't need to know, and besides he's gonna have enough to deal with." Not wanting to talk about the previous night, or even think about it, Vic changed the subject, "How is he?"

Claudette sighed and finally also sat down,

"He's doing a lot better. They took him off the ventilator yesterday, and he's breathing well on his own. The pressure in his skull has come down to normal, and all his blood tests came back negative."

Vic released a breath at that news, the spectre of HIV, which had lurked unacknowledged at the back of his mind, was finally banished,

"Thank God for that at least." He muttered.

Claudette nodded her agreement, before continuing,

"He does have a slight fever. He's got an infection from one of the ah…the bites."

She grimaced as she spoke those last words.

"Bastards." Vic ground out, before asking her, "Is he awake?"

"Sometimes. They've stepped down his sedation a bit, but he's still on a lot of pain medication, and that seems to keep him mostly asleep. When he does wake up it's not for very long, and he's usually pretty out of it, confused. Half the time I'm not sure he's got any idea where he is, or what's going on."

Before Vic could reply the door opened, and a nurse that Vic recognised as Inez, looked around the door and smiled at Claudette,

"We're all done Claudette if you want to go in and sit with Dutch for a while." Then looking at Vic her smile widened as she said, "Oh hi…um Detective Mackey right?" At Vic's nod she continued, "Good to see you back. Are you going in to see Dutch as well?"

"Yeah…yeah I am." Vic replied standing up.

This was a moment Vic had been dreading, and he found that despite his hopes the events of the previous night weren't making it any easier.


	30. Trespass Chapter 30

Disclaimer: - I don't own any of the characters of The Shield, they all belong to Shawn Ryan and FX.

Trespass Chapter 30.

Vic followed Claudette out of the visitor's room, and down towards the same room that he'd last seen Dutch in, when he'd lain so pale and still surrounded by wires and machines.

It had been a week since Vic had last seen Dutch, and with everything that had happened it had felt like the longest week of his life. Claudette led the way into Dutch's room and Vic was pleased that he'd barely hesitated before following on behind her. Turning to him Claudette said,

"He looks better don't you think?"

Finally looking at the man lying in the bed Vic had to acknowledge that she was right, he did look better, superficially at least. The most obvious improvement was the removal of the ventilator. The absence of its mechanical, methodical whooshing noise making the room seem a little less intimidating. That Dutch's chest rose and fell under it's own volition, softly, barely moving now he was asleep, was a relief to see after the regimented, regular, unnatural movement forced on him by the ventilator. While the equipment monitoring Dutch's heart beat and blood pressure still remained in place, it's steady beeping was reassuring, almost calming.

Stepping up closer to the bed Vic looked down at Dutch. He looked peaceful in his sleep, the bruising that had stood out so starkly the last time Vic had seen him was faded, and had virtually all but disappeared. He wasn't so pale either, his cheeks were actually flushed a little pink. Although when he noted the light sheen of sweat on his forehead, and remembered Claudette saying he had a slight fever, he supposed that the colour was probably due to the fever, and so wasn't quite as healthy as it looked. However, he turned to Claudette and said,

"Yeah, you're right, he does look a lot better."

"Here sit down, and stay for a minute." Claudette said obviously pleased that he agreed with her assessment of Dutch's condition. As she indicated an empty chair beside her she continued, "I can only stay for another hour before I have to get to work, but you don't have to rush off just yet do you?"

Not feeling comfortable enough to sit down and relax Vic remained standing, and for a second he considered lying, and making good his escape, but then he felt guilty. He thought back to that awful night that had had such an impact on all their lives. Vic remembered sitting on the floor of Dutch's bedroom. He'd sat next to Dutch and had held one of his ice-cold hands in his own, while waiting for the paramedics, and had silently promised the unconscious man, and himself, that he'd be there for him. He'd promised that he wouldn't let Dutch face his demons alone again. Now was the time for him to start to live up to that promise. So forcing a small smile on his face he replied,

"No…no I don't have to rush off yet, I can stay for a little while." Then he looked into Claudette's eyes, and hoped he was communicating his sincerity to her when he continued, "and I'm gonna be here a lot more from now on Claudette, now that…well now that other business has been taken care of. I didn't…I couldn't help Dutch that night, but I can sure as hell try and help him now."

Claudette had just opened her mouth to reply when a slight moan from the man in the bed caused both hers and Vic's attention to focus there.

Vic leant forward as he watched Dutch's face, feeling both trepidation and a slight thrill of expectation, as he realised Dutch was waking up. Dutch's head moved slightly from side to side on his pillow, and a tiny frown creased his forehead, as he struggled to emerge from his drugged lethargy. His lips parted, and his breathing quickened and deepened as his eyelashes fluttered, and finally his eyes slid slowly open.

Claudette stood up and leant over the bed, one hand resting on the metal rail that was raised at the side of the bed, and her other hand gently coming to rest over Dutch's right hand as it lay against his sheets. She smiled, and sought to establish eye contact with Dutch, as she spoke softly,

"Well look who's woken up. How are you feeling son? Thirsty I'll bet huh, let me get you some water ok?"

When she spoke the sound of her voice must have triggered a sense of recognition in Dutch's obviously rather drug addled brain, because he smiled up at her.

She straightened up, and turned away, reaching out to retrieve a sealed plastic beaker with a slightly raised section in the lid for drinking out of. It reminded Vic of the trainer cups that his children used to have when they'd first been leaning to drink out of a cup instead of a bottle. Turning his attention from Claudette and back to Dutch he saw that Dutch was entirely focused on her, and at her mention of water his tongue had briefly flicked out over his lips, as if he hadn't quite realised he was thirsty until she'd mentioned it. He completely ignored Vic, and Vic was pretty sure he was oblivious to his presence.

Claudette turned back to Dutch and leaning forward again she said,

"Here you go."

She slipped her left hand under his head, and helped him lift it off the pillow, as she brought the beaker up to his lips. Tilting it gently she let Dutch take a couple of swallows of water before she moved the cup away, and let his head rest on his pillow again.

His voice sounding croaky from disuse Dutch quietly said,

"Thanks."

Vic didn't think he'd ever heard such a wonderful sound before, and he let out a little sigh of relief. More than anything that single word seemed to signal for him the truth that Dutch really was getting better.

Claudette smiled down at Dutch and then she brightly said,

"Look who's come to see you."

She turned to look at Vic, and Dutch turned his head and followed here gaze with his eyes. Vic stepped forward plastering a smile on his face, and wiping his suddenly sweaty hands on the material of his jeans.

Dutch looked at him with glazed, slightly unfocused, eyes a confused expression on his face. Vic widened his smile, and reached out to gently pat Dutch's hand, saying as he did so,

"Hey Dutchboy how's it going?"

Dutch frowned, the look of puzzlement on his face almost comical, as he narrowed his eyes and tried to focus on Vic. Dutch's voice also betrayed his confusion when he asked,

"Vic?"

Slowly his eyes dropped from Vic's face, and he looked down to where Vic's hand had come to rest on his. Then very deliberately Dutch pulled his hand out from underneath Vic's. The action caused Vic's stomach to clench, and he pulled his own hand back towards himself, holding it against his chest, clenched into a fist.

Then Claudette spoke, her concern evident in her tone,

"What is it Dutch? What's wrong?"

Then everything began to happen at once, and Vic felt even more of his world come crashing down around his ears.

He looked up into Dutch's face, and felt sick at the fear he saw there. As much as he could Dutch had pulled himself as far away from Vic as he could get. His eyes were wide, still glazed, but they were focused entirely on Vic's face. His lips were moving, and just as in that terrible dream Vic had had a couple of nights earlier, he could hear Dutch muttering,

"No, no, no, no, no…" over and over again.

Just then an alarm on one of the machines on the other side of Dutch's bed began to scream shrilly, rapidly followed by another.

Claudette reached out for Dutch as she said,

"It's alright Dutch it's Vic…it's only Vic."

Looking at her, and hearing the anguish in his own voice, Vic told her,

"I think that's the problem."

He began to back away from the bed just as the door burst open and several nurses rushed in. Vic turned, and all but ran from the room having to get away, ignoring Claudette when she called out his name.

Once out of Dutch's room Vic didn't stop, he ignored the elevators, not wanting to have to wait for one, and took the stairs. He flew down them two at a time, and left the hospital, and made straight for his car. In no time he was pulling out into the traffic and with no firm destination in mind Vic just drove, trying to put as much distance between himself and the hospital as possible.


	31. Trespass Chapter 31

Disclaimer: - I don't own any of the characters of The Shield, they all belong to Shawn Ryan and FX.

Trespass Chapter 31.

Vic had driven out along the coastal highway, and had eventually pulled off the road and parked up at a spot overlooking a deserted beach. He gazed out over the calm sea, watching the sunlight dancing over the gentle swell of the waves as they raced towards the shore. He wound down his window and breathed in the salty air, filling his lungs with it, hoping it would help to clear his mind. He desperately needed to think.

God, Dutch had been afraid of him. He'd pulled his hand away from Vic's, the touch obviously disgusting him. Of course Vic could hardly blame him. He'd been an idiot for letting himself believe Aceveda and Claudette when they'd both assured him that Dutch wouldn't blame him for what he'd forced on him that night. Vic should have relied on his own judgement over the matter. He'd known, deep down that Dutch could have no opinion other than to see him as a rapist. Vic had wanted Aceveda and Claudette to be right so badly that he'd ignored his own common sense, and now look at what had happened. He'd hurt Dutch again. If he'd been sensible he'd have stayed away, but instead he'd made Dutch have to face him. The poor guy had had to wake up and find himself confronted by the man who'd betrayed him and used him. He'd woken up to find that man touching him. Vic's stomach rolled as he tried to imagine how awful that must have made Dutch feel.

Then there had been the blaring sound of the alarm on the heart monitor going off and the sudden rush of the nurses as they'd hurried into the room. Christ, for all Vic knew he could've caused some physical harm, as well as psychological harm. It was a mess, a complete mess, and it didn't look like there were going to be any easy solutions. After all if Dutch felt this way about him how could they ever work together again. Dutch wouldn't be able to stand the sight of him, let alone trust him to watch his back during a bust. If he couldn't find some way to fix this one of them would have to leave The Barn. Vic knew that by all rights that person should be him as he was the guilty party. What would that mean for the Strike Team, for the way things were run on the streets of Farmington?

Considering the professional repercussions was one thing, Vic wasn't too sure if he wanted to dwell on the personal repercussions if Dutch hated him now. His feelings for Dutch had been kind of shadowy, and mostly unacknowledged. He'd known they were there, but he'd usually been able to blithely ignore them.

Dutch had always registered on Vic's radar rather more than most of their other colleagues. It had been the growing respect he'd found for Dutch when he'd witnessed his passion to find Sally's killer that had forced Vic to finally realize that his feelings for Dutch weren't entirely only professional.

Vic had always known that he liked men as well as women, and he was completely comfortable with that knowledge. However, his experience with men had mostly been in his late teens and early twenties, before he'd met Corrine. Since he'd been with Corrine he'd only been with women. He smiled a little bitterly at the thought that maybe Corrine would be relieved to know he'd only ever cheated on her with women. Then again maybe not.

While he'd been married there'd been a couple of guys he'd looked at, but never anyone he'd worked with, until Dutch that is. The macho world he inhabited in his job just didn't cope well with anything that stepped outside of its narrow parameters concerning what was "normal". So while his affair with Danny was considered perfectly acceptable, a relationship with a fellow male officer most certainly wouldn't be. He'd seen how Julian Lowe had torn himself apart trying to hide his homosexuality from everyone. Until he'd tried to hide it from himself by getting married and trying to conform. Vic felt kind of sad for the guy, because while he himself was bisexual he was pretty sure that Julian wasn't. Of course orientation was another reason he'd tried to ignore his feelings for Dutch, since he was pretty sure Dutch was straight.

Still something Julian had said to Vic once, concerning his homosexuality, had rung true for Vic concerning his feelings towards Dutch – _"I push it down it goes away, but then it comes back stronger." _No matter how much Vic pushed his feelings away, and tried to ignore them, every now and then they'd suddenly surface and catch him off guard.

Vic remembered when Dutch finally cracked the Sally case. He remembered walking into the observation room curious to know what everyone was watching, only for Shane to tell him _"Sherlock Holmes here is getting smoked." _He hadn't been able to resist sitting down and watching Dutch work. Nor had he been able to keep the smile from his face as he'd listened to Taylor confess, and as he'd noted the mocking tone gone from Shane's voice as he'd murmured _"Jesus Christ." _Vic had made sure he'd been amongst the first to offer his congratulations, and to shake Dutch's hand. Then, of course, there'd been that mess with Ben Gilroy. When, admittedly with an ulterior motive, he'd offered to help Dutch with the case. Vic hadn't been able to stop himself from feeling gratified at the surprised, but pleased, look on Dutch's face when he had. He also hadn't been able to resist touching Dutch's shoulder as he'd walked behind him, and if his hand had lingered a little too long Dutch hadn't seemed to notice. However, Vic had noticed and had endeavored to keep his hands to himself after that, in case he got to enjoy the contact a little too much, and began to crave it. Of course then everything in his life had been over-shadowed by first losing his family, and trying to get them back, only to lose them again when he'd had to move out of home and move into that roach infested hotel.

Then Prescott and Tortora had come slamming into their lives, bastards. Vic hadn't been able to resist Dutch's offer of a place to stay, and although in one sense he wished he had, in another he was glad he hadn't. If he hadn't been there that night Dutch would've had to face that ordeal alone, and what would have happened? Either Tortora would have lost control just as he had done, and so Dutch would have been hurt just as badly as he had been. In which case, without Vic there to call an ambulance, he would probably have died from the internal bleeding before anyone wondered why he hadn't shown up for work, and more than likely, a worried Claudette had gone to his house to find out what was wrong. The thought of Claudette having to walk into that bedroom and find her partner raped and beaten to death made Vic shudder. Even if that hadn't happened Vic had a strong suspicion that Dutch would never have reported the attack, and would've tried to deal with it on his own. What would that have led to, a breakdown, or worse, suicide? Vic didn't even want to think about that.

However, if he hadn't been there at least they wouldn't be in this situation now. At least he wouldn't be feeling like this. God, Vic wondered would this guilt ever abate? The guilt for not doing anything, for not helping Dutch when he needed it. The guilt for Vic's feelings of relief, no matter how brief they'd been, that it had all been happening to Dutch and not to him. Then the guilt that up to this point he'd been denying even to himself. The guilt for forcing on Dutch something, that if Vic was truthful with himself, he'd fantasized about a couple of times. Jesus, no matter how much he tried to convince himself that he'd had no choice in what he'd done, it couldn't detract from that thrill of excitement he'd felt course through him when he'd opened his eyes, and looked down to see Dutch kneeling at his feet giving him a blow job. He'd thought that if he'd pretended it was Corrine and not Dutch it might help him keep control. However, when he'd opened his eyes, and looked down it had been the sight of Dutch there that had been the catalyst which had tipped him over into orgasm. What kind of a person was he? He had feelings for Dutch and yet had orally raped him, and cum while doing it. He could remember Tortora whispering in his ear that night, telling him that Vic looked like the kind of person who liked to take what he wanted. Had that monster seen a kindred spirit in Vic? No, he couldn't believe that, he might have had the occasional fantasy, but they had never featured any kind of coercion on his part. He might have wanted Dutch, but it had always been consensual.

Then he'd erroneously thought that if he made Prescott and Tortora pay that that would somehow make it all alright. That it would cancel out the wrong he'd done to Dutch. As if anything could ever do that.

With a sigh Vic turned the key in the ignition and turned his car back towards LA. It would probably still be a little while before Dutch got out of hospital and back to work, so Vic still had some time to try and figure out what he was going to do.

As he approached Dutch's house Vic couldn't prevent the little grimace that crossed his face when he saw Claudette sitting in her parked car outside. He pulled up into the drive, and got out of his car, purposely avoiding looking at her, although hearing a car door slam shut he knew she'd gotten out of her car too. Although he really wanted to hear her tell him that Dutch was ok, he was also afraid that wouldn't be the news she was bringing him.

Knowing he was being horribly rude, but not caring just as long as it put off this conversation for a few minutes more, Vic didn't stop to wait for Claudette, but walked up to the front door. He opened it up and went inside, leaving it open for Claudette to follow him.

He'd just taken a long drink from a cold bottle of water he'd gotten from the fridge, when he sensed Claudette's presence watching him from the kitchen doorway.

"Where have you been?" She asked him.

Typical Claudette Vic thought grimly, no idle conversation just get straight to the point,

"Around," he replied and then added, because he felt guilty taking his worries and frustrations out on her, "I went for a drive out to the ocean, I just wanted to clear my head...think for a while."

He finally turned around to find Claudette regarding him coolly as she asked,

"Did you come to any startling conclusions?"

"Only that it looks like Dutch isn't going to be quite as forgiving as you and Aceveda thought he would, and shit who can blame him. I can't see how we're going to be able to work together if he can't trust me can you?" Vic told her, thinking that if she could be straight talking so could he. Although he realised he didn't sound quite so forthright when he asked her, "How is he? How was he when you left?"

"Asleep, he was pretty upset, agitated, so the doctor sedated him."

"Christ," Vic said wiping a hand down his face, and feeling suddenly very tired. He leant back against a counter top and said, "I knew I should've stayed away, but I just wanted to see him, see for myself that he really was getting better…Christ what a selfish bastard."

"It isn't what you're thinking Vic, Dutch isn't mad at you."

"No the poor guy's scared of me, after what I did to him who can blame him."

Taking a couple of steps further into the room, her eyes never leaving him Claudette told him,

"He was scared, but not for the reasons you think."

Not understanding what Claudette meant Vic frowned and asked her,

"What are you talking about?"

"He thought you were dead Vic."

"What?" Vic exclaimed.

"After you ran off, and he'd partially calmed down I managed to get it out of him. He thought they'd killed you, and he suddenly wakes up and there you are. The drugs are making him confused at the best of times, I should have thought, told him you were all right, but it just didn't occur to me. I think he thought you'd come back to haunt him or something." Her voice became more somber as she added, "He said he'd failed you, that he'd tried to play the game, but it hadn't been enough to save you. He started getting really upset again, and the doctor stepped in and gave him the sedative. I told him you were alive, but I'm not exactly sure if he believed me or not. You have to come back to the hospital and sort this out Vic."


	32. Trespass Chapter 32

Disclaimer: - I don't own any of the characters of The Shield, they all belong to Shawn Ryan and FX.

Trespass Chapter 32

Dutch sat propped up in his hospital bed staring out of the window, watching a solitary white cloud floating across the otherwise clear blue sky. With a sigh he looked back down at the book he held in his hand. It was open, but turned face down. Claudette had brought it in for him a couple of days ago. It was a murder mystery, and although he was only half way through it he was fairly certain that the victim had been shot by that English guy Edward, who was really his long lost cousin, and so stood to inherit the family millions. Classic murder for greed. He was tempted to flick to the last chapter to see if he was right, but then decided that he didn't really care if he was right or not, so he closed the book, and put it on the table by his bed.

He picked up his watch and looked at the time. Another half an hour until afternoon visiting hours. He was bored and lonely, at least when he'd been up in the ICU there had always been someone coming in and out. Inez or Hannah or one of the other nurses, and they'd always had time to talk. Never about anything intrusive, only general stuff, the weather, the Lakers, just ordinary, everyday, normal conversation, and he missed that. Of course for most of the time he'd also been drugged up to the eyeballs so he'd spent a lot of his time either asleep or in a pleasant contented haze, to be honest he kind of missed that too. Not too much ability to think when you can barely remember your own name half the time.

Things were different down here on the surgical floor; he was lucky if he saw anyone from one hour to the next. He was much better now, and so he didn't need constant monitoring, and so that seemed to mean he was pretty much left on his own most of the time. It also meant he was on a lot less medication, and so his escape into a drugged oblivion was no longer an option, and he found himself with far too much time to think, and he didn't like to think. Dutch much preferred the world to be superficial these days, he didn't want to look too deeply into things, and he certainly didn't want to look too deeply into himself.

So although he looked forward to some company at visiting time, something to keep his mind occupied, something to stop it wandering into memories that he'd really rather not explore, he was always worried about what the topic of conversation would be. Dutch liked nice, safe topics like he'd had with the nurses in the ICU, the news, sports, but things didn't always work out that way.

He knew who his visitor was going to be that afternoon, and that knowledge was making him edgy and restless. Vic was coming in and this made Dutch unsettled. It wasn't that he didn't like Vic, in fact quite the opposite, since everything that had happened Dutch had seen a side to Vic that he hadn't known was there. Vic had always been a tough, no nonsense cop, skirting the edge of the rules sometimes but always getting the job done. Of course Dutch had heard certain rumors about some of the things the Strike Team were supposed to get up to, but he'd always taken them with a pinch of salt. Sometimes jealousy of good results could make people try to find fault with someone who was being successful. After all there had been reports in the paper that the team had been involved in stealing drugs, and Dutch had never believed it at the time, and had been proven right when IAD had dropped all the charges. Even Claudette, who had been a little disapproving of Vic at times, seemed to have softened towards him lately, sometimes they even came in together to visit, and seemed to get along with each other much better than Dutch could ever remember seeing before. Dutch had worked with Vic a couple of times, the Taylor case, the Gilroy hit and run and land deal scandal, the murders at the women's refuge. He'd come to respect Vic as a cop during those cases, and had always hoped that the feeling had been mutual. He'd thought it had been, he'd been sure he'd seen a certain something in Vic's eyes sometimes when he looked at him that spoke of respect. Of course Dutch made sure not to look too closely into Vic's eyes now, after all what respect could the guy have for him now?

It was one of the things that made Dutch feel so edgy when Vic came to see him; he wasn't sure why he came at all. He honestly expected Vic to hate him, despise him. After what he done, not only the weakness he'd shown, the degrading things he'd allowed to happen, had participated in, but also what he'd forced on Vic himself, he thought that Vic wouldn't want to be in the same room with him again. However, it seemed the opposite was true.

He still cringed when he remembered the idiot he'd made of himself the first time he'd seen Vic after he'd woken up in hospital. He'd genuinely been convinced that Vic was dead. So when he'd turned to see who Claudette had brought with her, and had seen Vic standing there, and had looked down and seen his hand on top of his he'd nearly had a heart attack. Jesus, he'd practically become hysterical, and had refused to believe Claudette when she'd assured him Vic was alive and well. After all he'd had drugged nightmares where he'd seen Vic's still, blood covered face over and over again. Claudette had had to drag the poor man into the hospital so he could prove to him that he was still alive. Then he'd really excelled himself by bursting into tears again. Christ Vic must have thought he was a total loony. Of course there were times when Dutch thought the same thing about himself.

However, if Vic did think Dutch was a little unstable now he certainly hid it well. There was a kind and considerate side to Vic that Dutch had never seen before, but which had certainly come to the fore lately. He'd tried to get Dutch to talk about what had happened, but when it had been apparent to Vic that that was the last thing Dutch wanted, instead of pushing it, as Dutch had expected him to do, he'd immediately backed off. Dutch was grateful for that, if only everyone was so considerate.

Having to give his statement to the two detectives from Westwood had to have been the most humiliating experience of his life. Claudette had offered to be there with him while he did it as support, but as if he'd want her to have to listen to that. Of course he knew that she already knew all the awful details of what had happened, but he really didn't want her to have to hear him recounting his failure. For that was what he felt like, a complete failure as a cop, and a complete failure as a man. He should've been able to defend himself, to stop them. Instead he hadn't even fought back; he'd just lain there and let them do whatever they'd wanted to him. It had been painfully obvious that that had been the opinion of the two investigating detectives as well. Their contempt for him very nearly matching the contempt he felt for himself. He supposed he should be relieved that the two perps were dead, and so after what had been a pretty cursory statement the matter had been closed.

The fact that the two men who had completely destroyed his life were dead was something that Dutch still wasn't sure how to feel about. When Captain Aceveda had come into the hospital and told him that they'd killed each other in an argument, all he'd felt had been relief. Now however he wasn't sure what he felt, no doubt it would be something that the department shrink Dr. Reyes would want to "explore" with him.

God there wasn't going to be any escape from the whole stinking mess. As much as he wanted to put it behind him, lock it away and not think about it, the more other people wanted to drag it out into the open, and pick it apart one disgusting act after another. Not only the gruesome details of what happened physically, but also how he felt about it at the time, how he felt about it now. On and on and on when all he wanted to do was put it behind him and move on, forget about it. However, apparently he wouldn't be healed until he'd "journeyed through his feelings". What a load of bullshit. How could he "journey through his feelings" when he didn't have any to journey through.

Well, Dutch supposed that wasn't strictly true. He knew how he felt about himself, about his weakness and cowardice. He knew how ashamed and humiliated he felt. Those feelings certainly hadn't abated with time, but anything else didn't seem to be there anymore. Dr Reyes kept wanting to "explore" his anger, but try as he might Dutch couldn't find any. Lord knows he'd looked for it, if only to shut Dr Reyes up, but he'd failed to find it. Yet another failure, because he was pretty sure he should be angry. If he was any kind of man he should be furious, but well the fact that he wasn't much of a man had been pretty well proven that night. When he looked inside himself to find this multitude of feelings and emotions that Dr Reyes spoke of, Dutch found nothing. It was like staring into the abyss. There was a hollow emptiness inside him that swallowed up more and more of him everyday, until one day Dutch thought there would be nothing of him left. Although he wasn't sure if that would be a bad thing.

If only Vic hadn't been there that night. If only he'd kept his stupid mouth shut in the break room, and let Vic get a bad back on Shane Vendrell's couch. Everything could have been different now. Either he'd be dead right now, so what everyone thought about him, about what had happened wouldn't matter. Or he could've covered it up somehow, then no one would ever of known. He could've kept it all a secret, held it within himself and gotten on with his life. Of course it would also have meant he wouldn't have to face Vic with the knowledge, that this man watched him get raped, that he'd forced oral sex on him, maybe he'd be able to actually look Vic Mackey in the eye.

Dutch sighed and thought that too much time on his hands alone was leading to far too much thinking, and he tried desperately to find a neutral subject to mull over. He was considering giving up and trying to get some sleep when a knock on the door announced his visitor.


	33. Trespass Chapter 33

Disclaimer: - I don't own any of the characters of The Shield, they all belong to Shawn Ryan and FX.

Trespass Chapter 33.

It was at times like this that Vic wished he'd never quit smoking. He hated waiting anyway, it always made him edgy and impatient, but waiting around to see Dutch had quickly gone to the top of his list of "things that I wish I could have a cigarette for".

Of course, it was entirely his fault he was pacing around the hospital car park waiting for 2 o'clock, and hence the surgical floor afternoon visiting hours, to come around. One part of him dreaded having to see Dutch, while another part was always eager to spend time with the younger man. It was this eager part that had him at the hospital thirty minutes too early, and was the reason his nicotine craving was going into overdrive.

Reaching into his jacket pocket Vic felt the envelopes tucked in there, his excuses for being here this afternoon. Vic was glad that Dutch would be out of the hospital soon, it was getting harder and harder to think up reasons to come here and see him. Vic felt a little uneasy at the thought that he felt he needed to come up with reasons, but he didn't want to start the rumor mill into motion again at work. More importantly, he didn't want Dutch to feel uncomfortable, or God forbid figure out that Vic had an ulterior motive, that he had feelings for him. However, try as he might Vic wasn't able to stay away, and so he came up with reasons to visit. He just needed to see for himself that Dutch was getting better, that the battered and bleeding figure he so often saw in his nightmares was no longer the reality. He also wanted to talk. He wanted to apologize, to try and explain to Dutch why he did the things he did that night, but Dutch wouldn't give him the chance. He'd tried once to broach the subject, but as soon as he had Dutch had completely shut down on him, and it had been blatantly obvious that he had no desire to talk to him about it. Vic still kicked himself that he'd been a coward that day, and had taken the easy way out, and had given in. Instead of pursuing the subject, forcing Dutch to talk to him about his feelings concerning what had happened between them, Vic had immediately changed the subject. At the time he'd felt that he'd forced enough on Dutch, and he hadn't wanted to cause him anymore pain. Now he realised that that had been the wrong decision, but it seemed that the more time passed since the attack the harder it was to broach the subject. So Vic never brought it up, and neither did Dutch, but it sat between the pair of them like a sleeping monster that they both knew would one day awaken, but which they both pretended wasn't there.

Looking at his watch for what seemed like the hundredth time, Vic was relieved to see that it was finally nearly 2 o'clock. Walking into the foyer of the hospital and making his way over to the elevators Vic felt the familiar tightening in the pit of his stomach. Happy to be going to see Dutch, but also on edge because of the unspoken tension that existed between the two of them now.

Once he reached room 714 Vic took a moment to force himself to relax, he reached into his pocket and pulled out Dutch's post, and then knocked on the door. After a second he heard Dutch's voice calling out _"Come in",_ and he pushed down the door handle and went in. Vic immediately felt his stomach clench with concern when he saw Dutch sitting up in his bed, instead of in one of the chairs in the room,

"Are you okay?" He asked, wincing slightly at the note of worry that he'd been unable to prevent from leeching into his voice.

"Fine," Dutch replied, "I'm just supposed to be resting because of the operation tomorrow."

"Oh," Vic said, relief flooding through him.

Then he felt suddenly awkward, and mentally kicked himself for being inconsiderate,

"I'm sorry…I didn't think. If you need to rest I can…um I can leave, and come back sometime…well some other time."

"No…no that's okay. I'd rather you stayed. It's kinda lonely here on my own, and it's good to have someone to talk too…take my mind off tomorrow. I know it's just a routine op, and it'll be good to get rid of…of the um…"

Vic noticed Dutch beginning to blush as he referred to the operation he was due to have first thing tomorrow morning to remove the colostomy. The final step before he'd be released from the hospital and allowed home. A thought that reminded Vic of one of the reasons he was visiting Dutch.

Not wanting to see Dutch floundering in embarrassment over something he really had no need to feel ashamed about Vic quickly interrupted him changing the subject,

"I brought your post."

He held out the half dozen letters he had in his hand. Dutch barely spared them a glance,

"Oh thanks…just put them on the table, I'll look at them later."

"All right," Vic said as he complied, "I just thought I should bring them in, you know in case they were important…bills or something."

"Thanks." Dutch smiled tightly at him.

For several long moments a heavy silence hung over the room, and Vic used the time to take a seat in one of the chairs by the bed, and also to study the other man.

He definitely looked much better Vic was pleased to note. In fact there was no outward physical sign of the attack he'd suffered. The bruises had all faded away and disappeared. The scratches, abrasions and bites had healed, and except for several small red marks where a couple of Tortora's teeth had sank slightly deeper than the others, and had left scars just at the junction where Dutch's left shoulder met his neck, his skin was unmarked. Of course Vic knew that hidden under Dutch's tee shirt was a much larger scar that ran for a good five or six inches vertically up Dutch's abdomen where he'd had the emergency splenectomy performed. Then after the colostomy was removed tomorrow he'd have a little inch long scar low on his right side. How Vic wished he could reach out and gently magic those scars away. So that Dutch wouldn't have to spend the rest of his life with those constant reminders of what he'd gone through that night carved into his skin.

Looking closer at the younger man Vic felt his concern for him spiking again when he noticed that the psychological signs of the attack were just as loud and glaringly obvious to him as they had been since Dutch had regained consciousness. Admittedly Vic knew he was probably more aware of Dutch's moods and little foibles than most people. Lord knows that before the attack, while they'd shared nothing more in common than their work, Vic had spent an inordinate amount of his time studying Dutch. Although he'd never seriously contemplated that their relationship with each other would ever be anything other than strictly professional, no matter how much Vic had wished otherwise, it hadn't stopped him looking. Vic liked to think of himself as something of a "Dutch Wagenbach Body Language" expert. He was aware of the slight flush to his face and the embarrassed little smile Dutch would give if he were praised. The thin lipped cold-eyed look or slightly sneering half smile he gave when he was being mocked. The arms defensively crossed over his chest, shoulders slumped in defeat, eyes that looked down at the floor, or the walls…all the little things that screamed discomfort, unhappiness, and that signaled that Dutch's self-esteem was taking a battering. Vic knew all these manifestations of Dutch Wagenbach and what he saw now worried him.

The dark circles under his eyes that showed that despite the fact he was probably receiving medication to help him rest Dutch's sleep was far from restful or undisturbed. The closely bitten fingernails, a new nervous habit for Dutch. The fingers that constantly picked at the edge of his sheets. The eyes that never held eye contact for long, always skittering away to rest briefly on the wall, the floor, anything other than other people. However, when he had a chance to look, briefly, into those dark blue eyes Vic felt a little sharp stab in his chest at the growing emptiness he saw there, vying for a place amongst the slightly desperate, slightly panicked, highly wounded look already there.

It was that look in Dutch's eyes that helped make up Vic's mind that he really needed Dutch to come around to his way of thinking today. He expected an argument. Although he'd backed down, to his regret, when it came to talking through the attack with Dutch, bowing to Dutch's wishes, he wasn't prepared to back down over this. He knew it was right, he knew it was what Dutch needed, now he just had to get Dutch to see things from his point of view. So quickly mentally preparing himself to stand firm Vic cleared his throat and broke the silence.

"I've been thinking Dutch. You know I've been staying at your house while you've been in here looking after the place…well I think it'll be best for me to stay on after you get discharged. You still won't be fully fit, and I can stay on in the guestroom like I am now, you'll hardly know I'm there. Just till you get back on your feet…back to work."

Vic felt himself tense as Dutch looked down at his hands, fingers picking at an invisible thread on the edge of the crisp white sheet he held in a tight grip, his lips pursed in thought. He prepared himself for the ensuing argument and felt rather deflated actually when all his carefully prepared reasons, that he'd stayed up half the previous night coming up with, weren't needed, when Dutch nodded and quietly said,

"All right…that's a good idea…I'd like it if you stayed."

"Oh," Vic replied, before adding, "good then it's decided."

Vic was hastily casting about in his mind for something else to say. A conversation that would mean he could stay here with Dutch a little while longer, when Dutch gave him what he needed.

"So did you see the Lakers game?"

Feeling inordinately pleased that he'd gotten his wish Vic beamed back at Dutch and settled back in his chair ready to enjoy the rest of his time with him.


	34. Trespass Chapter 34

Disclaimer: - I don't own any of the characters of The Shield, they all belong to Shawn Ryan and FX.

Trespass Chapter 34.

Idly flicking from one channel to another Dutch watched as a crying pregnant teenager talking to Ricki Lake, a woman gushing about how a multi-function juicer had changed her life, and a fat middle-aged man getting far to excited at the news he'd won a fondue set, chased each other across the TV screen. The desert that was daytime TV, he thought with a small snort of disgust. Sighing he hit the off button. The blank screen and silence a relief. If he thought hospital was a boring prison, it was nothing compared to being under house arrest.

Not that he couldn't go out of course he was perfectly free to come and go as he pleased. He could visit an art gallery or museum, go shopping, or just take a walk in a park. Apart from having to see Dr. Reyes a couple of times a week to "talk through issues and touch base", and an appointment next week with his own doctor to check his medication regime, his time was his own. Of course the one problem with any leisure activities that took place out of the house was…people. Wherever you went there they were. Jostling you, pushing against you, looking at you, whispering about you --- looking through you, into you, and seeing the emptiness inside.

Dutch shuddered, and resisted the sudden, irrational, urge to throw the remote control he clutched, a little too tightly in his hand, against the wall. He leaned his head back closing his eyes, and looked inside himself as the brief, crimson flash of anger and frustration that had flared in him was quickly caught and smothered under the dark, black, blanket that surrounded his feelings and emotions. Keeping them under control, suppressed and safe.

Suddenly feeling exhausted Dutch briefly considered going upstairs for a nap, but quickly dismissed that idea. He could barely force himself into his bedroom to sleep at night; he certainly didn't want to spend more time in there than he had to.

He remembered that first day back from the hospital when Claudette had brought him home. When he'd gotten out of her car and looked up at the house he could remember he'd shivered, suddenly feeling chilled to the bone. It hadn't felt like "home" anymore, still didn't in fact, now it felt colder, the ease and familiarity of it shattered. Now it was merely a house…bricks and mortar, wood and glass, stuck together to form a shelter. Not that he'd shared that observation with Claudette of course, when she'd looked at him with a little frown and asked if he was okay. His sincere smile, the one he'd practiced in the mirror in his bathroom at the hospital every morning, had popped onto his face, and he'd used his now favourite phrase _"I'm fine"._

The only drawback he'd found to having _"I'm fine" _as a favourite phrase was that once he'd used it he then had to live up to it. So that day, sincere smile still firmly in place, he'd followed Claudette into the house with his bags and up the stairs to his bedroom to put his things away.

He'd felt Claudette's concerned eyes on his back the entire time and he hadn't let his façade slip once. As he'd climbed the stairs he hadn't let Claudette know that his heart was beating against his ribs so hard he thought he was about to re-enact the dinner scene from "Alien". The sweat on his palms had nearly caused him to drop the bag he was carrying. Then as he'd walked towards the door of the room it was as if he was walking through thick mud. Each footstep was harder and harder to take. Nausea making his stomach clench and he'd prayed that the porridge and juice he'd had for breakfast wasn't about to make a sudden reappearance. There'd been an awful wailing cry of fear, and at first he'd been afraid that he'd let it escape from inside his head, but then he'd realised it was still internal, and his sincere smile had disappeared as he'd clamped his mouth shut to make sure it stayed inside.

He'd pushed open the door with a hand he couldn't stop from trembling, no matter how hard he'd willed it to keep still, and he'd stopped on the threshold. It was his bedroom, and it wasn't. _"Surprise" _Claudette had said softly behind him, and it had been. The walls were light blue now instead of pale yellow. The carpet was light grey instead of beige. The furniture in different places, and the bed and bedding all new.

Surprise had been an understatement. He'd been shocked, and incredibly touched, when Claudette explained that her and Vic had spent a weekend decorating and re-arranging. He remembered stammering out his thanks, and vowing to pay them back the money they'd spent, which he had despite their protests. He'd never had the heart to tell either of them that all their efforts, although good intentioned, had been a waste of time. Even now when he entered that room he felt like throwing up. He'd have to squeeze his eyes shut sometimes to try and blot out the nightmarish images that would flood into his mind. Not that it ever worked. The ghosts of that night were too insistent, too angry, to be easily pushed away. Sometimes it was like sensory overload --- sights, sounds, voices, words, touches, feelings. They'd all come rushing through him like wailing banshees, and he'd have to hide himself away in his blanket of emptiness until they'd gone.

He still hadn't managed to sleep in there without leaving the light on.

Opening his eyes, not liking the direction his mind was taking, Dutch looked at the clock on the video. Claudette would be at work now, Dutch knew Vic was, and he wished he could be there too. He wished he could be at work and other people were the victims. Other people were broken and damaged and soiled. Other people, faceless, nameless people --- other people not him. He wished "it" had never happened. He wished he could be at work, in control, helping those "other people", not one of them.

If he could just snatch back all his control. Push everything else away. Make it so that "it" never happened. That was what the emptiness was helping him to do. He understood that now. At first the growing void inside him had worried him, frightened him even. It had felt abnormal, Dr. Reyes always telling him to feel, to emote, and all the time he was being eaten alive by a ravenous, black, monster. However, what had seemed, at first, like a smothering darkness, had become a kind of security blanket. Dutch had realised that it was all right that he didn't want to talk about "it", explore his feelings. He just wanted to forget "it'' had ever happened. However, he knew that Dr. Reyes might not view his attitude too kindly so he'd decided to "play the game". He told him the things he knew he wanted to hear, he made the right noises. Anything to get him what he wanted, and that was quite simple. He wanted to put that night behind him and stop being one of "those people", and just be Detective Dutch Wagenbach again.

Once he'd achieved that he'd be allowed back to work again. He knew he was already partially there. Dr. Reyes had briefly mentioned some light desk duty after his visit to the doctors next week, if he got a clean bill of health. Of course it might help if he could get over his aversion to people. Maybe that walk in the park was a good idea after all, he thought, a good starting point anyway. Besides it certainly beat sitting here in this house listening out for the whispers of ghosts.


	35. Trespass Chapter 35

Disclaimer: - I don't own any of the characters of The Shield, they all belong to Shawn Ryan and FX.

Trespass Chapter 35

Pushing open the front door Vic automatically called out,

"It's me!"

He wasn't sure if Dutch needed the heads up that it was him entering the house, but he thought it best to give it anyway, and after three weeks it had become something of a habit now.

What was unusual was not to hear Dutch's voice calling out, _"Okay"_. Vic paused after he'd pushed the door shut behind himself, and called out again,

"Dutch…you here?"

He was sure Dutch didn't have an appointment with his shrink today, and the doctor's appointment was next week.

Frowning Vic walked to the kitchen, glancing to his left as he past the open doorway of the living room, his frown deepened when he found it empty. Once in the kitchen he looked at the calendar noting that, as he'd thought, there was nothing written down for today. He felt his worry increase, and briefly wondered if he should check the rest of the house – just in case. Just in case of what though he didn't like to think about.

Almost instantly Vic dismissed the urge to search upstairs, chiding himself for being paranoid. So Dutch had gone out, so what. His time was his own, and surely it was a good thing if he was feeling well enough to go out. Vic started to wonder if his shrink was actually right. Was he over-compensating? Worrying about Dutch, about his state of mind when he didn't have to. Was he trying to protect Dutch from non-existent problems because he needed a way to assuage his own feelings of guilt? Shit, maybe there was something to this psychoanalyst crap after all.

Vic started to make himself some coffee as he turned the problem over in his mind. Maybe it was just him. After all everyone else seemed really pleased with Dutch's progress. Claudette had only remarked to him a couple of days ago how delighted she was that Dutch had bounced back so well, and how much she was looking forward to getting her partner back. Vic wished he knew what Dutch's shrink thought, but of course that was between Dutch, Dr Reyes and the Department. However, Dutch had told him last week that if all went well at the doctors that Reyes thought he'd be well enough to go back to The Barn for desk duty.

While waiting for the percolator Vic tried to reconcile this apparently well-adjusted Dutch to what his gut was telling him, and try as he might he couldn't get the two to marry up.

Dutch was smart, Vic knew that. It was one of the things that had first sparked his interest in him, and while Vic wasn't a great fan of psychological profiling and psychobabble in general, he knew Dutch was. Hell he'd watched Dutch use it time and time again against perps, like that asshole Sean Taylor. Letting them think they had the upper hand while all the time subtly manipulating them to get what he wanted. Admittedly, Dutch's psychological approach had backfired occasionally, once, with the Kayla LeSeur case, with tragic results, but mostly he was right on target.

So here we have a smart guy with more than an amateur's knowledge of psychology, Vic thought to himself, but would Dutch be devious enough, desperate enough to use that knowledge to try and pull the wool over everyone's eyes. Shit yes, Vic immediately answered himself.

Dutch might spin a tale to his shrink. He might smile and laugh with Claudette, but he wasn't fooling him, and Vic didn't give a rat's ass what Dr Fulford, his Department shrink, said about over-compensating. Dutch wasn't handling things half as well as everyone seemed to think he was.

If Dutch was so well adjusted, he wouldn't be having nightmares nearly every night where he'd cry out so loudly he'd wake Vic up.

The first week it had happened Vic had stumbled out of bed at the first cry, almost on auto-pilot, an instinct left over from his kids he supposed. Then by the time he'd made it halfway across the landing towards Dutch's bedroom he'd have woken up enough to reconsider. Then he'd stand, a mass of indecision, listening to Dutch plead with his phantoms to leave him alone, not to touch him, or sometimes he'd just sob in his sleep. Once Vic had heard him call out _"Vic, no",_ and he shuddered to think what that nightmare was about. Every time, as he'd stood and listened he'd eventually turned around and gone back to his room. He'd been unsure about Dutch's reaction if he'd gone in and shaken him awake. For him to wake up and find a man standing over him again might completely freak him out, and that was a scenario that Vic just didn't feel equipped to handle. Plus he hadn't wanted to embarrass Dutch by letting him know that he knew about his dreams.

Now he didn't even get up. He just lay in bed staring up at the ceiling listening to Dutch's anguish, feeling like a coward. He'd listen when, sometimes, Dutch would stumble to the bathroom and be sick, or would take a shower even though it was the middle of the night.

Of course it didn't help either, Vic thought bitterly, that he'd been experiencing some dreams of his own. Except while Dutch's were terror filled, he was having dreams concerning Dutch that were becoming increasingly erotic, and were leaving him feeling guilty and aroused in equal measure. Not that Vic wasn't also having nightmares of his own. Watching powerless while those bastards raped Dutch again, but this time he'd also have to watch as they killed him when they'd finished. Or he'd re-live slowly pushing the knife into Tortora. He'd watch it slowly sinking in inch by inch, blood welling up around the wound, only to look up and it wouldn't be Tortora, it would be Dutch he was killing.

Turning to pour himself a cup of coffee Vic sighed as he thought that maybe he should be as worried about himself as he was Dutch. He knew he wasn't exactly the poster-boy for good mental health himself right now.

He'd always had a tendency to be a little volatile, but since that night his temper was sometimes on a hair trigger. There'd been a couple of times when one of the guys had had to pull him off some smart-mouthed piece of shit before the injuries went past "resisting arrest". He'd even found himself snapping at the team a few times, and although they always assured him it was okay they understood when he later apologized, it didn't make him feel any better about himself. He just hoped to God he didn't lose it with his kids. It was that fear that ensured he no longer blew off any of his psychiatrist's appointments. Whatever happened Vic was determined that the events of that night would never impinge on his kid's lives, and while not a fan of shrinks in general it didn't hurt and it kept Corrine happy.

He'd had to tell Corrine about what had happened. He hadn't wanted too, but he knew she was still friends with a lot of cops wives, and the gossip was bound to get back to her. Watching the disbelief on her face change to pity and eventually barely masked disgust had been one of the hardest moments of his life. He still wasn't sure if the disgust Corrine had felt had been because of the events of that night, or his part in them, he'd never asked and never intended to, afraid of what her answer might be. Of course she'd been sympathetic once she'd gotten over her shock, but she'd also been firm in her assertion that he had to get counseling to help him deal with what had happened. If not for himself then for the kids, she'd said.

Thank God the kids knew nothing. Matthew and Megan were both too young to understand anyway, and him and Corinne had both agreed that Cassidy was too young as well, and didn't need to know. Fortunately the gossip had died down before any damage had been done.

Vic found his thoughts interrupted by the sound of the front door being unlocked, and although he'd tried not to worry about Dutch's absence he still found himself relieved that he was back. Stepping forward to the kitchen door he called out,

"Hey."

He'd tried not to startle Dutch, but hadn't managed it. At the sound of his voice Dutch had dropped his keys on the floor, and all the colour had drained from his face. Vic looked at the pale face, the wide, frightened eyes, the hand that trembled slightly as Dutch bent down to pick up his keys. Dutch took a little longer than he should to do that, and Vic knew he was using the time to compose himself. Sure enough when Dutch straightened up again that annoying half-smile was on his face, and his voice betrayed no emotion as he said,

"You startled me."

"Sorry," Vic replied. "Are you alright?"

"Fine." Dutch said, as the smile widened.

Vic pinned him with a look for a moment, watching as Dutch began to redden and squirm slightly under his scrutiny, before he turned back into the kitchen while calling over his shoulder,

"I've just made coffee, I'll pour you a cup."

All the while thinking to himself, _"over-compensating my ass."_


	36. Trespass Chapter 36

Disclaimer: - I don't own any of the characters of The Shield, they all belong to Shawn Ryan and FX.

Trespass Chapter 36

God, he hadn't been in The Barn for two minutes and already he had to change his tee shirt. Cucusa had come charging around the corner with a half-finished cup of, thankfully, cold coffee in her hand, which she'd proceeded to dump all over his chest. Of course it had been almost worth it just to see the unusual sight of a flustered and slightly blushing Cucusa, her usual cool demeanor ruffled momentarily. Vic just hoped it wasn't a not-so-subtle sign from fate about how the rest of his day was going to be turning out. Fortunately he always kept a change of clothes in his locker, so a quick change and he'd be in the Clubhouse going over the details of the crack house roust they had planned for this morning.

Vic slipped into the locker room, quietly opening his locker and changing his shirt. A couple of uniforms were on the other side of the lockers talking about last night's football game. He couldn't see them, but he recognised them from their voices, it was Rodrigez, Patterson and Koenig.

He hadn't been paying too much attention to their conversation until he heard Koenig shushing the other two and saying,

"Hey, hey have you heard who's coming back today…Wagenbach."

"You're joking," that sounded like Rodrigez.

"Nope. He's starting off on desk duty this afternoon."

"Shit."

"God what do you say to the guy?" Patterson asked.

Sniggering Koenig replied,

"Well from what I've heard either drop your pants and bend over, or get on your knees and open up."

All three laughed, and Vic felt his hands clenching into fists. Jesus, he'd hoped there wouldn't be any of this bullshit, but obviously he was wrong. He stopped himself from rounding the lockers and confronting the idiots, making himself listen.

"Come on," Patterson said. "That's a bit unfair…it wasn't really his fault."

"Crap." Koenig said, his voice filled with contempt. "Calls himself a man, a cop and he lets a couple of sick sons of bitches do that to him. Fuck man if that had been me I'd rather they killed me…Ask me he probably enjoyed it. Always thought **Holland **was a fag."

Rodrigez joined in,

"Yeah thinking he's better than the rest of us…smarter…prick."

"Mind you," Koenig laughed. "He must be a good cocksucker cause rumor has it Mackey's still living at his place."

"Hey you can't blame the guy…you know if you're getting your pipe smoked good who's gonna say no."

"Well not Wagenbach obviously." Koenig said laughingly. "Maybe we should get him to be the welcome wagon over at "The Dugout" for all the new guys…put ole Badge Sucker Betty outta business…After all he must be good if Mackey keeps coming back for more."

At the sound of their laughter Vic couldn't hold back any longer. He slammed his locker door shut, the sound loud in the small room, making the other three men abruptly stop laughing. As he stormed around the row of lockers to confront the three uniformed officers Vic felt a surge of satisfaction when they all paled noticeably when they saw him, and all three took a collective step back away from him.

Vic said nothing, just stared at them, his expression like stone. It was Koenig who stepped forward, one hand raised in front of him in a placating gesture,

"Hey Detective we were just joking…we didn't mean anything by it. W e understand it wasn't your fault." Koenig glanced back at his buddies, and then turned back to Vic and smiled. "I mean you just did what comes naturally…right?"

Vic moved forward before Koenig could react grabbing his outstretched hand, twisting his arm and bending his wrist back as far as it would go, while shoving him face first into the lockers.

The other two men made to move forward and rescue their friend, but stopped when Vic glared at them, keeping eye contact, as he stretched Koenig's wrist to breaking point, his other hand grinding his face into the lockers. Vic felt a sense of satisfaction run through him at Koenig's squeal of pain.

"You bastards." Vic snarled at them. "You have no idea what you're talking about. You'll never be half the cops, or half the men, that Detective Wagenbach is…All you're good for is shooting off your mouths and writing traffic tickets, and if you don't keep you filthy mouth's shut that's exactly what you'll find yourselves doing…Writing traffic tickets in some asshole part of the city, cause life here will be such a fucking misery you'll be begging for a transfer."

Vic hauled Koenig off the locker and shoved him over to his two friends.

"You don't speak to Detective Wagenbach. You don't look at Detective Wagenbach. You don't even breathe the same fucking air as Detective Wagenbach. Understand assholes?"

The three men stared back at him with wide, shocked eyes, Koenig massaging his sore wrist.

"I said do you understand?" Vic repeated.

The three uniforms sullenly nodded their understanding at him.

"Good cause if I find out any different I'll be having a long chat with each of you." Grinning at them Vic continued, "I know some old storage containers that are the perfect place for two guys to work out their differences in private…Now piss off."

None of the men needed to be told twice, and quickly left the room, glad to be escaping relatively unscathed.

When they'd gone Vic felt some of the tension drain out of him, and he sat down heavily on the wooden bench, reaching up he scrubbed a hand over his face.

Shit, he should've known things weren't going to be as easy as he'd hoped. He'd hoped that Dutch's return to work would pass as relatively unremarked as his had. After he'd come back there'd been a few hushed conversations and uncomfortable moments, but it had seemed to pass after a couple of days, and things had returned to normal. Vic suspected the same wasn't going to be the case for Dutch. Those three morons he'd just caught were probably the tip of the iceberg. It seemed that a double standard was at work in The Barn. While his actions that night were being dismissed in a show of macho bullshit – _"…if you're getting your pipe smoked good who's gonna say no." _Dutch, however, was being condemned.

The force was a closed, insular society that liked all it's members to conform to certain unwritten rules. Anyone who stepped out of the box, or was perceived as being "different", was not welcome. The rules had been written a long time ago by white, heterosexual men. Although women and different ethnicity's were now 95% accepted homosexuals most definitely weren't. It wasn't a case of "don't ask, don't tell", in this house it was just the merest suspicion and your life would be made a misery.

Obviously because Dutch had been raped some assholes here thought he must have "asked for it", or "enjoyed it", or even the old favourite "why didn't he fight them off". Christ it was no wonder so many rape victims failed to report their attacks if this was the attitude they faced from those who were supposed to be helping them. Didn't these dickheads realize Dutch had had no choice, that he'd done what he'd done to save Vic's life. God, Vic couldn't help but feel partially responsible for this. His presence had taken the option of trying to fight back away from Dutch. Then Vic chided himself for that thought. If Dutch had fought back maybe they'd have killed him. Would that be better…better if he'd died instead of surviving? Vic felt a spike of contempt for himself blaze through him, here he was briefly wondering the same kind of crap as those three idiots he'd just chased out of here.

Well, Vic thought to himself, he had been a fully paid up member of "the club" – white, married, a man's man, whatever that meant, and a tough street cop. It was no wonder, he supposed, that some of those unspoken rules had seeped under his skin. Vic snorted in disgust at that thought, and he wondered what everyone would think if they knew what a fraud he was. Married…yes, affairs with women…yes, but a past with more than a few trysts with men, and a present where a good part of his time was spent thinking about one man in particular. Then there was poor Dutch. To the best of Vic's knowledge the guy was totally straight, he'd certainly never been with a man before those bastards Prescott and Tortora, and he was the one the rumor mill was labeling a fag. Shit, life was a bitch sometimes.

Vic realised though that it was time for him to step up the plate, he'd vowed to be there for Dutch when he needed him, and it was time for him to keep his promise. He pretty much knew who the trouble makers, and loud mouths were, it was time they understood that Dutch was off limits. Vic briefly wondered if he was doing the right thing. Maybe his intervention would make things worse, be misinterpreted, from what he'd overheard earlier certain things were already being implied about him and Dutch, and his actions might just fan the flames.

Vic took a deep breath and made his decision. He couldn't just stand by and do nothing, he'd done enough of that to last him a life time. He couldn't just watch while the bullies attacked Dutch. As far as Vic was concerned Dutch was vulnerable enough at the moment, he certainly didn't need that crap.

Standing up Vic tried to push his worries away. He had a job to do with the team, and he needed to be focused on that right now. He just hoped his fears would be unfounded, and Dutch would be accepted back as he had been, but sadly he doubted it.


	37. Trespass Chapter 37

Disclaimer: - I don't own any of the characters of The Shield, they all belong to Shawn Ryan and FX.

Trespass Chapter 37

Dutch could feel the whiskey burning it's way from his mouth all the way to his stomach, leaving him with a false sense of warmth inside. Tipping the glass again he frowned when he found it was empty. He reached out for the bottle, holding it up surprised to see how much he'd already drank. He could feel his brow crease in concentration as he placed the empty glass on the coffee table, and with slow deliberation he poured himself another generous measure. The bottle wavered at the last and a little spilled, running down the side of the glass. Carefully putting the bottle down Dutch reached out with one finger and ran it up the side of the glass, collecting the dribble of whiskey. Waste not, want not, he thought to himself as he put his finger into his mouth, tasting the fiery liquid that was on it. He snorted in derision at himself for being so up tight that even drunk and depressed he still couldn't bring himself to swig the whiskey straight from the bottle. No he had to keep up appearances and use a glass, like that made getting blind drunk somehow more civilized and acceptable.

Pulling his finger from his mouth he leant his head back against the arm of the couch. He was sitting on the living room floor, his back against the arm of his couch, his long legs stretched out in front of him. He stared up at the ceiling, watching the flickering light from the muted TV dance across it. The rest of the room was dark, and he tried not to peer into its shadowy corners, afraid of what he might see staring back at him.

Closing his eyes Dutch felt the numbing buzz that encompassed his body. The alcohol making him feel slightly detached from himself. What he wanted though, what he needed, was a way to numb his mind. That thought precipitated a wave of misery that made him squeeze his eyes shut, and tense his whole body in an effort to quash it. Reaching out with a shaking hand he grabbed the glass and brought it to his lips, gulping down half it's contents, not caring that it made him cough and splutter, a shudder passing through him. He just clung on to the hope that he could drink enough so that he'd be able to claw back his detachment.

He'd worked so hard to keep everything inside. He'd welcomed the heavy, black shroud that had stolen into his mind, which smothered his feelings and emotions. He'd clung to it, relied on it, and now that shroud was betraying him. It seemed to be unraveling at the seams, letting a myriad of disjointed memories and overpowering emotions bled into his brain. It was unraveling and so was he. Dutch felt as if he was losing his mind, falling apart, and he was afraid.

He'd had a handle on things until he'd gone back to work. He been convinced that once he went back his life would just magically slot back together. He should've known it wouldn't be that easy. Sometimes when he went out somewhere – the grocery store or the park – he'd imagine that people knew. He felt that he carried a mark somewhere, burnt into his flesh, and that just by looking at him other people, perfect strangers, could see what he was, what he'd done. He thought they could see inside him to the cesspool of filth and corruption he carried where his soul used to be. They could see it, and they whispered about him behind his back. He knew inside that he was being paranoid, but then he'd hear someone laugh and he'd feel a stab of pain go through him at the fear they were laughing at him. How much worse then to be in a place where he knew for sure that every person there knew every detail of that night. They knew what he'd let those men do to him. They knew what he'd done to Vic. He spent hours everyday surrounded by pity and curiosity and sneering contempt.

It took everything in him just to face another day at The Barn. He'd be three blocks away from the place and his palms would begin to sweat, his mouth would go dry, and his blood would roar in his ears. Twice in the past week he'd had to pull over and stumble into an alley to throw up. It was getting harder to maintain the façade. Harder to concentrate on his work. Harder to ignore to subtle, and not so subtle, bullying he was being subjected to. There were a certain number of people who used to be his colleagues who obviously thought he should quit, and Dutch was beginning to wonder if maybe they were right.

Finding his glass empty again Dutch carefully re-filled it. Hurriedly taking a sip from it, this time ignoring the whiskey that sloshed over the rim of the glass, splashing his hand and his shirt.

The memories of that afternoon came unbidden into his mind. The memories that he'd consumed half a bottle of whiskey trying to repress. He'd been working on the computer, chasing down some forensic information for Claudette, when Shane Vendrell and Curtis Lemansky had passed behind him laughing and joking with each other. He didn't even know what they were talking about, although he could guess, but Vendrell had said _"…nice and tight, just like I like it."_ making Lemansky laugh. It had been those words, and that accent, the same Southern twang that he'd heard that night. Those were the exact words that animal had whispered to him when he'd stabbed his finger inside him. Even now the recollection of it caused tears to well up in his eyes. Earlier it had felt like the whole world was crumbling around him.

Vendrell and Lemansky hadn't even seen him there he was sure, thank God he added silently. However, when he'd heard those words spoken in that accent he'd flashed right back to that night. The feelings, sounds, emotions, everything had all flooded into his mind. The terror and disgust and shame had risen up inside him until he'd wanted to scream, feeling he was choking on them. Even now he wasn't sure how he'd managed to make it to the bathroom. He'd stumbled into a cubicle and had only just remembered to slid the bolt home behind him. Then he'd crammed himself into a corner, sitting on the floor, his body curled in on itself, and he'd clung onto his sanity by a thread.

He wasn't sure how long he'd stayed there afraid to move, afraid to even open his eyes, but eventually he'd managed to regain a modicum of control over himself. Enough at least that he was able to leave the safety of his locked cubicle and leave The Barn early using a headache as a flimsy excuse. On the drive home he'd clung onto the hope that he'd be able to pull himself together. Of course, he thought, this probably wasn't the best place to come. His house wasn't the refuge it used to be. Instead it was the scene of the horrors he tried so very hard to repress. However, it was here that he'd come automatically, and when a hot shower and a change of clothes, some seemingly endless pacing, and finally some mediocre TV had failed to push his escaping feelings and emotions back into the darkness where they belonged, he'd tried to find the answer in the bottom of a bottle. Dutch sneered at himself as he thought how predictable he was. Feeling the room beginning to spin when he closed his eyes, forcing him to quickly open them again, Dutch realised it probably hadn't been the smartest idea he'd ever had.

Just then Dutch's world became flooded with light. He heard himself groan as he quickly squeezed his eyes shut as the light lanced into his head, making his eyes water.

"Shit." He muttered.

Finally taking the chance he managed to peel back his eyelids enough to squint up at the blurry figure that stood by the living room door. As his eyes adjusted to the light level the blur finally coalesced into the disapproving figure of Vic. Dutch stared up at his tight-lipped, annoyed face for a moment before sighing and turning his attention back to his glass. Half a mouthful finished it off and he reached out for the bottle as Vic's voice finally said,

"Don't you think you've had enough?"

"Nope." Dutch replied concentrating on the bottle in his hand.

Tipping the bottle Dutch purposefully filled the glass nearly to the rim, just to piss Vic off.

Dutch could feel his resentment for the other man rising within him. Part of the problems he was facing at The Barn were Vic's fault. Dutch knew that Vic had stepped in, telling people that they should leave him alone or else. All that had done was make things worse; some of the filthy things that had been said to him about his relationship with Vic made his stomach turn. Christ, why hadn't Vic just kept out of it, let him fight his own battles. Instead he'd made Dutch feel weak, like he couldn't look after himself. He tried to ignore the insidious voice in his head that whispered that he was weak, because if he hadn't been he'd have been able to stop those men before they'd… He clamped down on that thought and grabbed onto the only other feeling he had – resentment. Resentment of Vic. He clutched it to himself like a lifeline, feeling it boiling up inside him, and he basked in the flare of vicious hatred he felt. Usually he smothered these negative feelings, but this time he felt a twisted pleasure in reaching out and embracing them instead. His negative emotions usually had no outlet, but this time his outlet for them had just taken several steps into the room and was asking him a question.

"What's wrong…are you okay? Has something happened to upset you?" Vic asked concerned.

Dutch heard Vic's concern and felt a slight twinge of guilt at the spiteful feelings he had. However, he quickly buried it and let his bitterness wash over him as he replied,

"Oh what could possibly be wrong? Everything's just…peachy."

Vic paused for a moment before saying,

"But I thought…you're back at work now…just desk duty I know, but it's a start right?"

Vic tried to smile encouragingly at him.

Dutch blinked up at him and could feel the sneer on his lips as he looked at Vic's face. A gamut of emotions, none of them good, rushed through him. Repressed resentment, fear and loathing howled for release. Words clamored to be spoken, they flooded into his head and Dutch just couldn't stop himself, even if he'd wanted too. He briefly remembered the saying _"let someone have it with both barrels" _and that was exactly what he proceeded to do. He lost himself in the moment and finally let some of his pain loose.

"Oh yeah, my life's fucking great…just perfect. Everyone I work with knows I got fucked up the ass by two sicko's and that I gave you a blowjob." Dutch's mind vaguely registered the shocked expression on Vic's face, but he couldn't stop himself. "Some of them look at me with such contempt. They think if it had been them they'd have fought them off…done…something. They probably think it's not even the first time I've taken it up the ass so what am I moaning about? I'm just a whining bitch who wasn't man enough to stop it happening and I got what I deserved. Little fag probably enjoyed it huh? Or there's the pity. People like Danny who look at me like I'm broken…like I'll never be normal again. All the time they're just waiting for me to fall apart so they can shake their heads and say how sad it is…like they really give a shit…But the best ones are the guys who think it's funny…a big fucking joke. Dutchboy finally got what he deserved…doesn't think he's so smart now huh? It's hilarious to put gay porn magazines in my locker, used condoms in my desk...and the things...the things they say...bastards.

Dutch had to stop his voice breaking on the last words, angry tears spilling over from his eyes. He banged his glass down on the table and pulled his knees up to his chest, the heel of his hand angrily wiping at the wetness on his cheeks.

"Jesus Dutch." Vic breathed. "Why didn't you tell me? I could've…"

Dutch interrupted him looking up into Vic's sad, concerned face, but the alcohol was colouring his perceptions so that all he saw was pity and contempt. He felt his resentment for Vic flaring again,

"Why…why tell you Vic? So you can fight my battles for me…ride to my rescue? Don't think I don't know how you've been threatening people…telling them they'd better leave me alone…Jesus did you think you were doing me a favour…helping me somehow? All you've done is made it worse…If you knew the things…the things they say. Half the Department thinks I'm your bitch…that you're marking your territory…Christ Vic why don't you just come into the squad room and piss on me…it'd be easier." Looking up at Vic's shocked face Dutch continued. "What…for once you've got nothing to say Vic?"

Vic stared at him for a moment before turning away. Dutch had to strain to hear his hushed voice,

"I don't want to say something I'll regret later, I don't want to lose my temper…let you push me away."

Dutch felt a little glimmer of regret, a touch of guilt, at how he'd spoken to Vic, but he was spinning out of control and just couldn't seem to be able to stop himself,

"Oh why not say what you think Vic? Everyone else has had their say. Doctors, psychiatrists, Claudette, Aceveda…the fucking list is endless…so why not you too?"

Dutch could hear the barely suppressed emotion in Vic's voice when he replied,

"I just think sitting in the dark wallowing in self pity and drinking yourself unconscious isn't doing you any good."

"Oh you don't do you…well screw you Vic," Dutch laughed bitterly before adding, "and if you listen to half the gossip I already am…If I wanna wallow in a little self pity then I will…I think I've earned the right too don't you? And if I wanna get drunk I'll do that too. It's none of your Goddamn business." Staring up at Vic he added. "Just why do you care anyway? You never gave a shit about me before. I was just a joke…a loser, not a tough, macho, ass-kicking cop like you and your team. So what is it Vic? Guilt…pity?"

Dutch could hear his voice getting louder, he knew he was shouting at the other man, but couldn't stop himself even when he could see Vic flinching back from his verbal onslaught.

Dutch could see the shock on Vic's face, he could see it vying with anger. He briefly wondered if he pushed Vic a little more if he'd punch him, and Dutch wondered if maybe that was what he wanted, if it might make him feel better. However, as he watched Vic quickly reined his feelings in, Dutch could see the effort it took him to do it. He watched impassively, suddenly feeling drained, as Vic walked to the living room door, only pausing to say,

"I think I need some air."

Dutch leant his head back on the arm of the couch again and winced when he heard the front door slam and the tyres of Vic's car squeal as he pulled away too quickly.

He sighed feeling tired, drunk and mean. He'd used Vic as his punching bag, taking his fear and pain out on him. He'd apologize tomorrow he thought. Well he'd probably have to do some serious crawling, but he deserved it.

Dutch looked at the bottle and glass on the table, and felt his stomach roll at the thought of anymore alcohol. Pulling himself up on his unsteady legs Dutch paused long enough to switch off the TV and then slowly, and carefully, climbed the stairs.

He felt so tired that his mind was actually blissfully blank when Dutch pushed open the door to his bedroom, and flicking on the light he stepped inside. The flashback when it came took him off guard.

That voice again _"…nice and tight…just like I like it." _The terror and panic. The shame, the loss of control, feeling powerless. Feeling those hands on him, touching, pinching, scratching, and then the feeling of being ripped apart as he was violated.

He felt so dirty. He could feel that touch on his body. He could feel the blood and semen running out of him, he needed to get clean.

Dutch stumbled to the bathroom feeling dizzy and sick. He switched on the shower, his only thought being that he desperately wanted to be clean again.


	38. Trespass Chapter 38

Disclaimer: - I don't own any of the characters of The Shield, they all belong to Shawn Ryan and FX.

Author's Note: - I apologise to those of you who have been waiting so patiently for this chapter. I'm afraid real life has been somewhat unkind of late, and although I've written a few pieces in another fandom I haven't been writing much at all, and certainly nothing that has the emotional investment that I've made in Trespass. However, I'm hoping to be getting back to doing the things I enjoy once more, and that includes writing this story. So once again I'm sorry for the long wait, but I hope normal service will now be resumed – so on to what you really want…

Trespass Chapter 38

Vic sat in a booth as far in the back of the smoky bar as he could get. Hunched over his beer, the tension evident in every line of his body, none of the bar's other patrons went near him, which suited Vic just fine. He wanted to be alone with his thoughts, he needed to figure out what had gone so catastrophically wrong when he'd only been trying to help Dutch, and how he was going to fix it.

Slowly peeling the label from the beer bottle, and then tearing it up into tiny strips, Vic went over the events of that night in his mind. After a long, frustrating, day chasing false leads, and then having to crack a few skulls, just to get the message across that he didn't appreciate being jerked around, Vic had assumed Dutch was already in bed when he'd first gotten home, and seen the house in darkness. However, the second he'd opened the front door the smell of whiskey had hit him. The house had smelt like a distillery, and Vic had immediately known things were not good. The flicking light that was coming from the, otherwise dark, living room led him to stand in the doorway, and he'd seen Dutch sitting on the floor, a glass in his hand. When he'd flicked on the light, and seen the half empty bottle on the table, Vic had felt annoyance warring with his concern. Jesus, he'd thought Dutch had more sense. Dutch's ex-wife had been a drunk after all, and Vic would've thought alcohol would be the last place Dutch would try to find solace.

Vic remembered the way Dutch had squinted up at him, his eyes slightly blood-shot, and refusing to focus properly. He hadn't seen a lot of Dutch over the past week or so. A flood of badly cut Colombian coke on the streets meaning too many dead party-people for Aceveda's taste, so he'd had the Captain breathing down his neck for results, and Tio whining about lost trade, and falling profits. However, sitting on the floor, gulping down whiskey, Dutch had sure looked worse than the last time Vic had seen him. He'd looked pale and tired, dark circles visible under his eyes, but worse than that he'd looked defeated, smaller somehow, as if he was slowly sinking in on himself.

Dutch's appearance had set off alarm bells in Vic's head immediately, and wanting to help he'd asked Dutch what was wrong. The bitterness in Dutch's tone when he'd replied, _"Oh, what could possibly be wrong? Everything's just…peachy." _should've warned Vic that something was brewing inside the other man, but he'd been so intent on getting to the bottom of what was going on, that he'd ignored the internal warning to back off. He'd tried to jolly Dutch along; Vic winced and took a sip of his now lukewarm beer, as he remembered what a spectacularly bad move that had been.

Dutch's voice had been filled with such searing contempt, as he'd finally released some of what he'd been feeling; yet keeping locked away inside of himself. The alcohol had broken down the barriers that Dutch had erected around himself, there to keep his emotions tightly reined in, and to keep everyone around him at arm's length. Vic had known this was lurking, boiling away, under the calm surface that Dutch was so skilled at showing the rest of the world. However, the tone of self-loathing that was evident as Dutch spoke had worried Vic. If Dutch wanted to vent his anger that was fine with Vic, it was more healthy than the way he'd been pretending everything was fine, and if Dutch wanted to use him as his emotional punching bag, well that was fine with Vic too. In fact, Vic welcomed it, and considered himself the best person for the job. What they'd gone through together had bound them together in a way Vic didn't think other people would be able to understand, hell he wasn't sure he understood it himself. They'd shared something terrible, and it had fundamentally changed them both. Neither of them were the same person they had been before that night, and no matter how much Vic sometimes wished he could be, and no matter how much Dutch pretended he was, the truth was they were different now, and they could never go back to what been before.

Dutch's tears, which had seemed to Vic to be a combination of anger, sadness and frustration had made Vic's heart clench in his chest. He'd had to fight to urge to go to him, wanting to offer some comfort. However, this time he'd had the sense to listen to his inner warning voice. With the mood Dutch had been in going anywhere near him would've been the worst thing he could've done. So instead he'd stayed still, watching Dutch, and feeling impotent, completely unable to stop the younger man's pain. It had been a familiar feeling, and one Vic hated.

Leaning back against the stained fabric of the seat, Vic closed his eyes for a moment. Anger bubbled up within him as he remembered the way Dutch's voice had broken as he'd told Vic about the bullying that he was being subjected to. Vic thought he'd taken care of that when he'd confronted that asshole Koenig, and his cronies, in the locker room. Well, obviously not, maybe it was time to have a little chat with Officer Koenig, and see what he knew about what was going on, and who was behind it. Remembering what Dutch had told him, how people were insinuating things about his relationship with Vic, and that he didn't want Vic butting in, Vic briefly wondered if maybe he should leave things alone. Sitting up again he smiled coldly to himself -- as if that was gonna happen. He'd just have to be more forceful about getting his point across this time, and more careful about Dutch not finding out. He kind of relished the idea actually, knocking a couple of bigoted assholes heads together would be his way of blowing of some steam, almost therapeutic in it's own way. Dutch had managed to push a lot of Vic's buttons, and he certainly had some aggression to burn off, one way or another. Dutch had been pushing him and pushing him, almost as if he'd wanted to provoke Vic. Vic frowned at that thought, was Dutch hoping to piss Vic off enough that he'd lose his temper? If so what did he hope to gain? Puzzled Vic pondered that question for a while before an uncomfortable thought crossed his mind. Maybe Dutch wanted Vic to lose his temper, maybe he wanted Vic to lose it so badly that he'd lash out. Was that what Dutch wanted? Did he want Vic to hit him? Did he feel he deserved it somehow, that he needed to be punished? Okay, Vic was starting to realise that maybe Dutch was unraveling faster, and more catastrophically, than he'd thought.

Of all the things that Dutch had said though the ones that had hurt Vic the most, the ones that had cooled his temper, had been, _"Just why do you care anyway? You never gave a shit about me before…So what is it Vic? Guilt…pity?" _Dutch had shouted those words at him, and he'd felt them being hurled at him like a physical assault. Trust Dutch to be able to use words as a weapon, to be able to wound Vic more effectively with a couple of sentences then anyone had ever been able to do with a fist. If only Dutch knew. If only he knew how much Vic cared, and how long he'd been watching him. If only he knew how long Vic had been hyper-aware of everything he did, everything he said. If only he knew how much his presence burned in Vic's soul. Yeah, Vic snorted to himself, if he knew the poor guy would probably run a mile.

Tipping back his head and swallowing the last of his warm beer, Vic spared a glance around the dark and smoky bar. Fuck why didn't he just pick up some cheap whore who he could have for the price of a couple of drinks, Christ knows there were plenty of candidates in the bar right now. Shaking his head though he admitted defeat. He didn't want a meaningless fuck. He didn't want a cheap whore. Hell, he didn't want a woman. He wanted what he couldn't have. He wanted Dutch.


	39. Trespass Chapter 39

Disclaimer- I don't own any of the characters of The Shield, they all belong to Shawn Ryan and FX.

Trespass Chapter 39

Man-handling a passed out, cold, wet Dutch out of the shower wasn't as easy as Vic had originally thought it would be.

After spending time crying into his beer like an ass-hole he'd finally headed home. He'd been relieved when he'd stepped through the front door to find the stink of whiskey less pronounced, and that it seemed that Dutch had stumbled off to bed. Vic remembered how he'd smirked at the thought of the hang-over the younger man would probably be facing in the morning, and how he deserved it for trying to find the answers to his problems at the bottom of a bottle.

Once upstairs though he'd heard the shower running, and when a look in Dutch's room confirmed he wasn't passed out in there, and when the shower was still running ten minutes later, Vic had knocked on the bathroom door. After knocking and calling Dutch's name Vic had finally put his shoulder to the locked door and forced his way inside. The couple of seconds it had taken Vic to break the lock on the door, and muscle his way into the bathroom had been filled with fear at what he might find. At what a depressed Dutch might have done, and annoyance at himself that he'd left the other man when he was obviously hurting.

What he'd found hadn't been a scene of gore and blood from a suicide thank God, but a cry for help nonetheless.

Dutch had been fully clothed, but slumped down, passed out under the shower, which was running at full power, the water freezing cold.

After switching the water off Vic had found that although Dutch was lean, and probably thinner that he had been before their ordeal, Dutch was still taller than he was, and had more muscle than Vic had given him credit for. Once he had Dutch lying on the bathroom floor Vic reached out and gingerly touched his pale cheek. It was like ice and he could swear that Dutch's lips were taking on a bluish tinge. Not relishing the prospect of having to haul Dutch up and out of the room Vic tried to rouse him, tapping his face, lightly at first, but then with greater force. However, it was useless, Dutch was out cold, and wouldn't be waking up anytime soon, that was pretty obvious.

Stealing himself for the task ahead Vic reached down slipping one arm around Dutch's shoulder and prepared to try and get him upright, muttering to himself as he did so,

"Shit Dutchboy, sometimes you're a pain in the ass."

Grunting with the effort, and thankful he worked out with the weights at The Barn regularly, Vic finally managed to drag Dutch up. By this time he was as thoroughly soaked through as Dutch, and was shivering despite the effort getting Dutch to stand up had cost him. Dutch groaned softly as Vic tightened his grip on him to stop him from slipping from his grasp. Vic could feel Dutch trying to get his feet under himself, and a little bit of the burden lessened.

"That's it Dutch you can walk, huh? Give me a little help here, okay" Vic said to him, as he pulled him along out onto the landing.

Dutch did seem to be trying to walk, but his efforts were completely uncoordinated and half-hearted at best. Vic looked across at Dutch's bedroom door and it suddenly seemed an awfully long way away. Making his decision Vic hauled Dutch around and half-dragged, half-carried, him into his room. He didn't want to get the bed wet so he laid Dutch down on the floor as gently as he could. Although his back protested wildly at the last moment, and he winced at the sound of Dutch's head impacting with the floor when he finally lost his grip on him. It had been more of a thump though than a crack, and a quick inspection didn't even show a bump so Vic guessed it had sounded worse than it was.

Pulling himself up Vic put one hand to the small of his back as a sharp, painful spasm made him grimace. Seeing Dutch shiver quite violently at that moment though Vic didn't give himself anymore time to nurse his strained muscles.

"I'll be right back Dutchboy…don't go away."

Vic strode across to Dutch's bedroom and opening a few drawers he'd soon pulled out some dry clothes, and stopping off in the bathroom on the way back, he also grabbed some fresh towels.

Back in his room, Dutch was still lying where he'd left him, a puddle forming around him on the wooden floor. Vic knew what he had to do, he had to get Dutch out of his wet clothes, dry him and then dress him in something dry, and get him warm, but still he hesitated. What if Dutch came around while Vic was undressing him? How would he react? What would he think?

Shaking his head and murmuring,

"Shit."

Vic knew he had no choice, and just prayed that Dutch would stay unaware of what was going on.

If Vic thought getting a wet, passed out Dutch out of the bathroom and into his bedroom was hard, it was nothing compared to undressing a wet, passed out Dutch. His sweatshirt clung to his skin not wanting to be pulled over his head, or from his arms. The wet material seemed to twist and get trapped under Dutch's chin and in under his arms. Vic was half tempted to get some scissors and just cut the soaked garment from his body. Finally though the sweatshirt gave up the fight and Vic was able to pull it free from Dutch's head. He flung it away from them in disgust, and heard it land with a wet splat on the floor at the foot of the bed.

During his maneuvers to free Dutch from his sweatshirt Dutch's head had ended up on Vic's chest, where it lolled to one side, rolling gently with each movement Vic's body made. Sliding out from under Dutch and laying him flat on the floor Vic's eyes skimmed down over Dutch's naked torso. Dutch's skin was pale and covered in gooseflesh and Vic could see that Dutch really was too thin, his ribs far too visible under the pale flesh for Vic's comfort. He noticed these things, wary for Dutch's well being, and tried to ignore the hard, dark nubs of the younger man's nipples. He tried to ignore the desire to reach out and touch, caress, roll each under his fingertips. His mouth suddenly dry Vic found himself reaching out, before shaking his head, and muttering to himself in disgust,

"Jesus Mackey, what the fuck are you doing"

His lips thinning into an angry line, Vic moved around to Dutch's side and reaching out he quickly unzipped Dutch's pants and struggled to pull them down his long legs. Once more the wet material clung to the cold flesh, but at least it was just a straight pull down with a minimum of maneuvering. Once he removed Dutch pants he quickly striped him of his underwear. Annoyed at himself for his earlier weakness Vic did his best to keep his mind blank as he quickly used the towel to dry Dutch off and try to rub some warmth back into him. Making sure all the time that he kept his eyes averted and that he only touched Dutch's body with a towel, never with his fingers.

Once he had Dutch relatively dry, and had soaked up as much of the excess water from the floor as he could, Vic quickly dressed the other man. At least it was marginally easier pulling dry clothes onto Dutch than it had been pulling his wet clothes off of him. Vic took a moment to quickly strip out of his own wet clothes, dropping them down on the floor to join the soggy heap of Dutch's clothing already there. He shivered in the cool air as he dried himself off with a towel before pulling on a pair of boxers and a tee- shirt.

Pulling back the covers on the bed Vic braced himself for the final effort of hauling Dutch up and into the bed. Ignoring the pull of his already strained back muscles Vic sat down on the edge of the bed next to the unconscious man once he had him lying on his side in the bed. After getting his breath back under some semblance of control Vic reached out and took one of Dutch's hands in his own. It was like touching ice, the long fingers reminding Vic of icicles in his palm. He could also feel a pronounced shivering which made Dutch's entire body tremble. However, Vic knew that with cases of extreme cold shivering was a good sign, it was when someone stopped shivering that you really needed to worry. Still he also knew that Dutch needed to get warm as soon as possible, and the best way he could do that was to share his body heat with Dutch.

Even though he knew it was the best thing to do, and that he really had no ulterior motive for wanting to hold the younger man close to him, well at least no ulterior motive that he wanted to acknowledge right at that moment anyway, Vic still hesitated. Just as when he'd had to undress the other man Vic worried about how Dutch would react to finding himself in such a vulnerable position with another man, even if it were Vic. However, just at that moment a low moan from the man beside him made up Vic's mind, he'd have to act now and deal with any fall out later, as getting Dutch warm was the most important thing right now.

Pulling the blankets up over Dutch's shivering body Vic made his way around to the other side of the double bed. He left the bedside lamp on, figuring that if Dutch did wake up disorientated in the night it would probably be best if he didn't find himself in the dark.

Vic carefully slipped in behind the other man, and almost gingerly sidled up to Dutch until he was pressed lightly up against his back. Now he was here Vic suddenly felt extremely awkward and uncomfortable. Just knowing in the back of his mind how often he'd dreamed about being in bed with Dutch made him feel even worse. Dutch shivered violently at that moment, his teeth chattering, and his breath coming in little stuttered gasps. Vic chided himself for being stupid and reaching out he wrapped one arm around Dutch's lower chest and nestled in behind him.

Reaching up Vic laid his hand on Dutch's arm, and began rubbing along its length, trying to impart some warmth and blood flow. Lying this close Vic could breathe in Dutch's scent with every breath, and he felt it filling him. The feel of lean muscle under his hand and the long line of the other man's body pressed up against him were intoxicating. Vic closed his eyes, breathing in deeply and leaning his forehead down against Dutch's shoulder. He stopped rubbing Dutch's arm and reached down instead to grasp one frozen hand, entwining his fingers in between Dutch's as he did so.


	40. Trespass Chapter 40

Disclaimer- I don't own any of the characters of The Shield, they all belong to Shawn Ryan and FX.

Trespass Chapter 40

Waiting for the coffee to finish percolating Vic stared into the glass on the counter watching, apparently fascinated, as three dispersible aspirin fizzed and disintegrated in the water. As he watched, the little islands of white that had risen to the surface finally fell apart one by one and dissolved. Sitting back Vic reached up and scrubbed a weary hand over his face. He was tired, not because he hadn't slept well, but because he'd awoken early and instead of going back to sleep he'd waited for the dawn. While it had still been dark he'd lain in the night just feeling. Feeling the rise and fall of Dutch's chest under his arm. Feeling each beat of Dutch's heart under his palm. Feeling every twitch of muscle, every soft sigh, every movement in each long limb. Then, with the dawn, came light, and he'd lain quietly, not moving, but staring at the back of Dutch's neck. He'd watched the way his breath was just enough to slightly stir the hair on the back of Dutch's head. He'd watched the play of sinew under the pale flesh when Dutch had moved his head slightly in his sleep. He'd studied the tiny hairs at the back of Dutch's neck, the pattern of tiny freckles at the top of his spine, the red, shiny scar tissue at the point where Dutch's left shoulder met his neck, the marks left by Tortora's teeth that night. Vic had gazed at those incongruous little marks and, not for the first time, wished he could reach out with his fingers and wipe them away.

He was lost and he knew it. If there was one thing Vic Mackey was, it was a realist. A night spent curled in around Dutch keeping him warm, and safe, had merely confirmed for him in his mind what he already knew in his heart. What had once been an unacknowledged undertow of lust, had slowly changed into something deeper. It wasn't all about sex and lust, but feelings and emotions, the stuff that made most hot-blooded males run screaming for the hills. Sex and lust, the kind of relationship he'd shared with Danny once, was a great way to scratch an itch, but ultimately Vic found it unsatisfying. Sometimes it wasn't about the sex, sometimes it was about having someone to talk to, or not even. Sometimes just being able to share the same space with someone, no touching, no words, that was the most fulfilling thing in the world. He'd had that once with Corrine, before the pressures of work and kids and life, had pulled them apart. Shaking his head Vic thought bitterly, _"before you pissed it all away you mean."_

Putting his own feelings, his own wants aside though Vic knew something was gonna have to give. He'd stood by, trying to convince himself that letting Dutch work through his problems himself was the best thing to do. Well, the events of the previous night had shown what a spectacular failure that strategy was proving to be. Dutch hadn't faced up to what had happened to them, he'd just buried it, and now it seemed that it wasn't staying buried. The drunken aggression Dutch had shown towards him wasn't just a result of Vic's interference at work, he was sure. It had a much deeper, much darker, catalyst. This whole thing between them should've been gotten out in the open by now, instead of being left to fester like a sore. It was his fault, Vic thought with a pang of guilt. He'd wanted to take the easy route back when Dutch was still in hospital, and had let Dutch dictate how they communicated, or rather didn't communicate, with each other concerning the rape.

Standing up, and strolling over towards the percolator, Vic decided it was time that he took the lead. All Dutch's silence was doing was making him miserable, and making Vic feel trapped in a never ending cycle of anger and guilt. Enough was enough; it was time for them to talk.

Floating somewhere in between sleep and wakefulness Dutch was content to let himself drift. A still distant, but an increasingly insistent, throb of pain in his head convincing him that waking up might not be an entirely pleasant experience. Much better to stay where he was – warm, content, sleepy, but rested. Breathing deeply he burrowed his head a little deeper into his pillow, and reveled in the feeling that, for the first time in a long time, he'd actually slept well. A vague dreamlike impression of cold, of ice, had been replaced by warmth and peace, unlike the sweat-soaked, heart-stopping terror that usually followed his dreams.

The uncomfortable throb in his head seemed to increase in intensity and Dutch felt his relaxed haze beginning to fade. It was replaced by a very unpleasant taste in the back of his throat, and the sensation of his tongue being stuck to the roof of his mouth. Peeling his tongue free Dutch pulled a face, and smacked his lips several times, wishing that the sensation that the inside of his mouth was slightly furry would soon pass. The sudden flash of a half-empty whiskey bottle made him groan at his own stupidity, and then wince at the way the noise reverberated around his brain.

Wondering what time it was Dutch gingerly poked his head out from under the comforter. Carefully cracking open first one eye, and then the other, he was relieved to find that the accompanying stab of agony the light produced at the back of his eyeballs wasn't too bad. However, the world was a little blurry, and he blinked several times to try and get his eyes to focus on his alarm clock.

Confused, he stared for several seconds unable to understand why, instead of his alarm clock, he was looking at a photo of three smiling children all sitting together on an unfamiliar couch. Recognition dawned on him when he remembered seeing those same smiling faces in his own kitchen one Friday evening a couple of weeks ago when he'd come home tired, and a little pissed off from a late, unhelpful, session with his Department shrink. Then the faces had been smeared with chocolate and ice cream, and Vic had explained that he'd stopped off to give them a treat before he took them home to their mom. Dutch could remember giving the kids a tight smile, and muttering some lame excuse about being tired, before escaping to his bedroom. He'd thought at the time that Vic had looked a little disappointed by his reaction, but he hadn't been able to help himself, he just didn't do well with kids. Children and animals, neither seemed to like him very much, maybe they could sense something about him, weren't kids and animals supposed to be sensitive, instinctually seeking out "good" people. Seeing that kids tended to run away, and dogs' growl at him, maybe they knew something he was only just starting to wonder at about himself.

Chiding himself for letting himself wallow in self-pity, Dutch dragged his mind back to the present, and wished his brain didn't feel so sluggish, and as though it was wrapped up in a thick layer of cotton wool.

Blinking at the photo, the conclusion that seeing it led too began forcing it's way to the front of his mind. Slowly pulling the comforter down, away from his face, Dutch turned over onto his back and found himself looking around the guestroom, currently Vic's room. Turning his head to the right the indentation in the pillow there confirmed the realisation that had just begun to form.

Flashes of memory flooded his mind. Feeling unhappy, drinking too much, and then shouting at Vic, wanting to piss him off, to make Vic hurt as much as he was hurting. Then a sensation of fear, of filth, the need to be clean. Warmth turning to cold, and not caring, slumping down too tired and dizzy to move. Then he could remember hearing a voice, Vic's voice, sounding annoyed, but worried too. Then that wonderful feeling of warmth suffusing every atom of his body, feeling so relaxed, boneless. It had felt so good to be held, to be touched without instantly shying away from the contact. It had felt so good not to be alone.

A footstep outside the door, and then the door itself being pushed open, brought a halt to the whirl of confusion that threatened, for a moment, to overwhelm him. He found himself staring up at Vic as he entered the room carrying a glass and a mug. Dutch could hear the slight fizz of the dispersible aspirin, and smell the bitter warmth of the coffee he'd brought. Vic paused for a second, hesitating on the threshold, before straightening slightly, his expression hardening, and he walked forward putting the glass and the mug down next to the photo on his bedside cabinet.

"Thought you could probably use both of these right now." He said.

Pulling himself up, so that he sat up in the bed, Dutch tried not to wince as the movement set of a crescendo of hammers inside his skull.

"Um…yeah thanks." He murmured reaching out, and taking hold of the glass he sipped at it's contents, his mouth welcoming the re-hydration it brought, while his stomach rolled slightly at the sickly sweetness of it.

Dutch kept his eyes firmly glued to the glass in his hand, all the while feeling Vic's piercing gaze on him. Finally Vic broke the silence between them,

"I had to bring you in here last night to warm you up. I came home and found you passed out in the shower, freezing cold." His hitherto calm tone deserting him, as Vic continued. "You fucking idiot…I thought you were supposed to be smart Dutchboy. Instead you end up getting pissed and nearly freezing yourself to death…Thought you'd know better, wasn't your ex a drunk?"

Dutch flinched back a little at his tone, but he knew Vic was right, he had been stupid, still the barb concerning Lucy stung.

"I…I…um…I'm sorry…about what I said to you last night…I didn't mean it." Dutch fumbled for his words as he tried to apologise for his behaviour. Finally looking up at Vic, he said. "And I'm sorry you had to…do all that you did. I kinda remember some of it, and…well thanks."

Dutch felt himself flushing red, and dropped his eyes again, feeling like a bug under a microscope, under Vic's impassive gaze. He squirmed slightly, and gulped down some more of the aspirin as he waited for some response from the other man. Vic eventually put him out of his misery,

"When you've finished, and you've cleaned yourself up, we need to talk Dutch."

Not waiting for an answer Vic turned and left the room. Dutch looked up at the now closed door feeling a sinking sensation in his stomach. He'd hoped never to have to have this conversation, but deep down he'd known it was inevitable. Now that the moment was here he felt a potent mixture of fear and relief. He also had the inescapable feeling that something fundamental in his life was about to change forever.


	41. Trespass Chapter 41

Disclaimer: - I don't own any of the characters of The Shield, they all belong to Shawn Ryan and FX.

Trespass Chapter 41

Vic had to wait about half an hour for Dutch to make an appearance in the kitchen. Dressed, his hair still damp and mussed up from a shower, Dutch looked rather sheepish as he pulled out one of the tall stools from underneath the breakfast bar and sat down on it.

"How are you feeling?" Vic asked.

Clearing his throat, and glancing briefly up at him before looking away again his face colouring slightly in embarrassment, Dutch replied,

"Fine…um well not too bad. A bit of a headache, but I guess I deserve that huh?" Dutch looked back up at Vic and gave him a weak smile.

"Yeah…yeah I guess you do." Vic snapped, watching while Dutch winced at his sharp tone, the unconvincing smile on his face fading, and being replaced by a look of apprehension. Still feeling pissed at Dutch over the night before, but having done too many stupid-ass things himself in the past not to feel a little sympathy, he softened his tone when he asked, "Do you want some more coffee?"

"Please." Dutch said quietly, nodding.

As he poured out a couple of cups of coffee for him and Dutch, Vic casually added,

"I've dumped all your booze down the drain. So if you're planning on getting wasted again tonight, and acting like an asshole, you'll have to buy some more."

Dutch looked back up at him, studying Vic's face. Vic could see that annoyance battled with embarrassment for a moment on Dutch's face, and Vic braced himself for an argument, but the embarrassment won out. Eventually shrugging Dutch told him,

"Fine…whatever. I wasn't planning on having another pity-party tonight anyway." That half-hearted, self-deprecating smile was back and Vic found himself not liking it very much. "Whatever you may think, I'm not turning into a drunk. It was just the one time, and it was stupid I know that."

"Yeah, well you're right about that Dutchboy it was stupid. Letting some pricks push you around. You gotta push back Dutch, push back harder, let them see that you ain't gonna take their crap. You know what guys like that are like, always looking for a weakness they can use. You can't give it to them, you have to be strong."

When Vic had finished speaking there was silence for a moment until Dutch quietly replied,

"That's easy for you to say. You didn't do anything wrong."

Frowning Vic asked,

"What are you talking about?"

"Nothing…it doesn't matter." Dutch hastily replied, taking a sip of his coffee.

Vic could see the other man's mind working furiously trying to find something else to say to change the subject. Well too late. This was a conversation that was long overdue, and Vic wasn't about to let Dutch deflect him from it now.

Taking a step closer to Dutch, Vic shook his head,

"Oh no, you're not getting out of it that easily Dutch. You got something to say, then say it."

"I told you it's nothing…nothing important."

"Yeah, well I'll be the judge of what is, and isn't, important. What did you mean when you said I hadn't done anything wrong?"

Dutch looked extremely uncomfortable, dropping his gaze to the floor, wringing his hands. For a moment Vic wondered if Dutch would just get up and leave, but instead Dutch sighed softly and seemed to fold in on himself a little, his shoulders slumped, looking defeated.

Vic hesitated, wanting to tell Dutch that it didn't matter, feeling responsible for the resigned defeat in every line of Dutch's body and wanting to take it away. To make Dutch feel better, to make him feel happy. Now that they were finally going to talk things over Vic felt suddenly nervous. He still hadn't expressed his feelings to Dutch about what had happened that night, his guilt for not doing anything to stop them, his feelings concerning the fact that he'd forced himself on Dutch too. Despite the little voice in the back of Vic's head chanting that he was a coward he opened his mouth to tell Dutch that it was okay, they didn't have to talk about it if Dutch didn't want to. Before he could speak though Dutch beat him to it, taking a deep breath he said,

"That night…that night I lost something…No that's not right…I gave something of myself away. I just let them…do…those things to me. I didn't fight…I just lay there, and let them…" Dutch's voice broke, and Vic wanted to reach out to him, to comfort him, to tell him it would all be alright, but he stopped himself. He sensed that this was something that Dutch needed, he needed to get his pain out into the open, so Vic said nothing, standing still, watching Dutch as he took a deep, steadying breath and continued. "That was wrong, I should've fought back, tried to stop them…done something. I feel like…like I'm responsible…"

Despite his good intentions Vic didn't like the way this was going and blurted out,

"That's crap Dutch. You didn't do anything wrong, you did what you had to, to survive."

"You don't understand…you don't know how I feel." Dutch told him. Dutch looked up at Vic and Vic took a sharp intake of breath at the pain, and bleak despair he could see in Dutch's eyes. "You don't know…you didn't do anything wrong."

"Jesus Dutch, neither did you. You want to go around handing out blame then what about me huh? You think I didn't do anything wrong. How do you think I felt having to stand there and watch while they did that to you and not be able to help?"

Dutch shook his head, saying,

"That's different Vic, you had no choice, you had a gun pointed at you."

"So did you. It just happened to be pointed at my head." Vic said softly, hoping Dutch would understand what he was trying to say. Hoping that he'd see that he'd had no choice too, that the choices he'd made that night had been the right ones.

Dutch stared at him, a slight frown on his face, and for a moment Vic had thought he'd gotten through to him. Then Dutch looked down at the floor again before asking in a quiet, sad voice,

"If it wasn't my fault then why did they pick me?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why me? Jesus, the guy was the washing machine repairman. I called him, let him into my house, I made him a cup of fucking coffee for Christ's sake. What did I do while he was here that made him think I'd want that? I must've done something, said something…I keep thinking about it you know. Ever since the Captain came to the hospital and told me that they'd found them, that they were dead. Ever since he told me who they were, and that I'd let one of them into my house. I mean it must've been something I did cause he didn't get his cousin and go round to all his customer's houses in the middle of the night and…and rape them did he. What made me so _special_?"

Vic pretended not to notice when Dutch reached up and wiped his fingers angrily over his eyes.

"I can't believe you've been thinking about this Dutch. Shit, I thought you were supposed to be into profiling, psychology, what makes the assholes tick. I can't believe that you're buying into that 'it must be the victims fault' bullshit. Do you think this when you investigate a rape case? Do you look at the victim and wonder what signals they gave their attacker that would make the shit-head think they were asking for it?"

"No!" Dutch sounded angry with him, and it was a relief for Vic to see some of his anger directed outwardly, instead of in towards himself. "That's…that's not the same…"

"Yeah, why?" Vic asked him. "What makes you so different from everybody else, that this has to be your fault?"

"It…it just is. It's…I'm a man. It's not supposed to happen to men, we're supposed to be able to look after ourselves, fight."

"But it does happen to men Dutch, you know that."

"Yes I know, but…but it wasn't supposed to happen to me." Dutch looked desperate and totally lost when he looked up at Vic. "What am I going to do? I don't know what to do Vic."

Stepping closer Vic asked,

"I don't understand Dutch…"

Interrupting him Dutch stuttered out,

"It won't go away…I'm…I'm dirty, soiled. N…no one's ever gonna want me again. I'm going to be on my own forever, with just that…In…in my head all the time. It's all I dream about…I…I can feel them touching me…hurt…hurting me, and that's all I'll ever have."

"No."

"You know I'm right." Dutch insisted against Vic's denial. "At work, when they look at me that's all they see…damaged goods. Who'd want to be with someone like that?"

Vic couldn't stop himself from stepping closer to Dutch, stopping right in front of him. Intellectually he reasoned that this was probably a bad idea, and it would just complicate an already fucked up situation, but his heart refused to listen to his head. Vic hadn't felt this nervous since he was a teenager. His stomach was tied in knots, his heart beating quickly in his chest; he had to resist the urge to wipe his sweaty palms against his pants. His gaze caught Dutch's and never taking his eyes from Dutch's he reached out and placed one hand on his shoulder. Dutch's eyes widened, uncertainty present in his expression, a slight frown and the way he caught his lower lip between his teeth for a second, biting down and draining the colour from his lip, denoting his confusion. Vic could feel the slight trembling of Dutch's body and knew he'd have to be slow and gentle if he didn't want to startle the younger man. Vic's eyes dropped down to Dutch's mouth, Dutch's lips were slightly parted and he nervously licked them, his tongue quickly skimming over his delectable lower lip. It sent a jolt of desire straight through Vic's body. Unable to resist any longer, his suppressed desire coming to the fore Vic let it overwhelm him, he leant down slowly, being careful to give Dutch the chance to pull away. However, Dutch didn't move and Vic gently pressed his lips against Dutch's. He kept the kiss undemanding, almost chaste, determined to move only as fast as Dutch was comfortable with. Vic couldn't resist bringing his other hand up to the side of Dutch's face though. He slid it slowly up into Dutch's hair and lightly threaded his fingers through the soft, brown strands. Vic could feel his heart thumping in his chest as he closed his eyes reveling in the moment, finally tasting the lips he'd spent so long trying to ignore, trying not to fantasize about, trying not to stare at. Very gently he swiped his tongue across Dutch's lower lip and was delighted when Dutch's lips parted and allowed him inside. Vic reveled in the taste of the other man, a mixture of coffee and mint. As Vic gently flicked his tongue against the roof of Dutch's mouth he felt the tension in the muscles under his hands ease a little. A breathy moan escaped Dutch's mouth and Vic willingly swallowed it up. One of Dutch's hands slipped around Vic to rest in the small of his back. Vic felt himself shiver with desire when Dutch's tongue hesitantly began to move against his.

Vic couldn't stop himself from moaning as the sensation of Dutch's tongue moving against his sent a bolt of desire straight to his groin. That was the sound that seemed to break the spell. Dutch's body stiffened up immediately and Vic felt the hand that had been on his back suddenly on his chest as Dutch pushed him away. Dutch's face was pale, his eyes huge with shock and confusion. Vic stepped back holding his hands out in front of him in a placating gesture, all the while cursing himself for his stupidity.

"I'm sorry Dutch. I didn't mean for that to happen…"

Dutch stood up abruptly almost knocking the stool over in his haste. He sidestepped away from Vic towards the kitchen door, stumbling over his words,

"I…I've…um gotta go. I need…" He didn't finish what he was going to say, turning towards the door.

Dutch had only gone a couple of steps, and Vic didn't want him to leave, he needed to explain himself to Dutch, to make him understand. Reaching out Vic grabbed Dutch's arm hoping to make him pause, hoping to buy himself some time,

"Wait, Dutch please I need to explain…"

But Dutch pulled his arm from his grasp, turning his head towards Vic as he left the room just long enough to say,

"I can't…I can't. I have to think."

The slam of the front door seemed very loud to Vic's ears, as he stood in the kitchen alone. He didn't move for several minutes before slowly walking towards the stairs determined to go up to his room and start packing.


End file.
